


A Late Night Fairytail

by WishIHadWings



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Dancer Ian Gallagher, Drag Queens, Drug Use, Fairytail, Friends to Lovers, Gay Bar, Gay Pride, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Reunions, Security Guard Mickey Milkovich, Slow Burn, openly gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:55:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23737207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WishIHadWings/pseuds/WishIHadWings
Summary: Mickey and Ian were good friends in high school, but after graduation they drifted apart. Ian joined the army, while Mickey worked hard to become a security guard. It’s been three years since they had seen each other, but during a shift at the Fairytail, Mickey gets a surprise when he finds out his old friend is back in town.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 32
Kudos: 117





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A Celebration of Identity x

The wind soared, harsh and icy against Mickey’s pale skin as he walked from his car down the dark yet lively Chicago street, passing clubs and bars that buzzed loudly with people enjoying their Friday night, thankful that the weekend was finally here.

This neighborhood was the epicenter of Pride, with rainbows decorating the snowy sidewalks, billboards with drag queens and slogans about love and acceptance almost everywhere you looked. It made this street magical, and made Mickey feel as if he were in _‘The Wizard of Oz’_ or some shit. He’s been working in Boystown for years, and yet it still makes his little gay heart soar, warming him up more than the four layers of clothing he’s wearing to fight off the cold.

He walked down a side street towards the Fairytail, an old, rundown nightclub that has been transformed within the past year thanks to the new owner and manager—Jason Baker.

Jason was a great boss compared to the old sleaze that used to own it. All the dancers were strictly go-go dancers now, not strippers or prostitutes, and he upped the security so they could prevent and assist situations far more efficiently than before.

A chill ran through Mickey as he approached the venue, wind getting stronger as he crossed his arms to retain the warmth in his heart, snowflakes now floating down into his jet-black hair.

“Hey Mick,” Mickey’s coworker greeted, pulling Mickey’s deep blue eyes off the ground to meet him with a slight smile.

“Dean,” Mickey nodded, tapping the door attendant’s shoulder as he passed by. Dean just nodded back, going back to checking the ID’s of patrons waiting outside in the cold Chicago weather. Dean was always a quiet man, so Mickey never expected much from him, but he never understood why he was constantly put on doors. Jason had suggested other guards swap with him, but Mickey could never. Even on the nights where he hates his job, he would never swap his position to be stuck doing doors.

It was so much warmer inside the nightclub, bass thrumming Mickey’s heartbeat in a way he’s become so attune to. It was just another Friday night, similar to all the ones before it.

Mickey has been working here for two years now as a security guard and filled up the days he didn’t work at the Fairytail by working multiple bars and events around Chicago, mostly within the Boystown area though, as he preferred to work in LGBT+ friendly spaces such as these. Boystown was the only place he could call _home_ nowadays, as the southside had became a thing of the past for him.

He enjoyed his job as much as anyone in this profession could. It was the only thing that made sense to him considering it was the only job he’s ever really had. His first gig was at a small grocer named ‘ _The Kash ‘n’ Grab_ ’ which he only got thanks to his old friend Ian Gallagher. Mickey was on probation at the time, but that was the last (of many) juvenile sentences he had received, because he had finally found something that he was good at.

Keeping people safe gave him a sense of purpose, even if he didn’t feel safe within himself most of the time.

Mickey made his way through the back to the staff room, clocking in and putting his coat away, making sure his walkie talkie and earpiece were charged and ready to go. He made his way back out to the disco lights and pumping music, mentally preparing himself for the wild night ahead.

He headed straight to the bar where Jason was texting on his phone, leaning against the counter while the bartender poured him a coke.

“Yo! where’d you want me tonight?”

Mickey was never one to beat around the bush, and Jason found humor in it, just smirking at his employee.

“In my bed, obviously.”

“Very funny,” Mickey replied sarcastically. “You know you should really consider goin’ into comedy if this business shit doesn’t work out.”

His boss huffed a laugh, combing his fingers through his messy honey-brown hair, placing his phone down to sip his drink.

“I want you on the floor,” he exhaled. “But there’s a new dancer starting tonight, so I want you to look out for him. I don’t think he’s ever done this type of work before.”

“Alright, which stage?”

“Stage two, he’s got red hair and abs for _days_ , you won’t miss him.”

Mickey let out a breath, not sure how to respond. He just nodded, trying to picture what this guy looked like.

Just as he was about to ask for the name of the dancer he’d be protecting tonight, Jason grabbed his shoulder. “Here he is now, right on time!”

Mickey turned around and felt his jaw drop. The sight of a nervous, familiar face made Mickey’s stomach do cartwheels, a sense of nostalgia washing over him. What the hell was he doing here? Wasn’t he was supposed to be in the army?

“Gallagher?”

“Mickey?” The redhead replied just as shocked, his nerves visibly melting away to show a bright smile at the sight of his old friend. He practically bounded over like a puppy-dog, embracing Mickey in a tight hug. Mickey let out a laugh, the two patting each other on the back as they swayed side to side. “How you been, man?”

“Yeah not bad,” Mickey replied as he pulled away, looking Ian up and down briefly, noticing only subtle changes from how he was a few years ago, but he still seemed to be the same Ian he knew in high school. “You’re lookin’ good.”

“Thanks, been workin’ out,” Ian smirked.

“Yeah—Hey, weren’t you—”

“Hello?” Jason laughed awkwardly. “You two know each other?”

“We grew up together,” Mickey briefly explained, looking back to Ian with disbelief. “Seriously, the fuck are you doing here?”

“Oh! I thought this was going to be an awkward ‘He’s an ex’ situation.”

The friends burst into laughter, Ian quickly replying, “Oh fuck no—and it’s a long story, but I’ve been back home for six months.”

“Shit, you should’ve tried to find me!”

“I tried! But you don’t have Facebook anymore.”

“Fuck Facebook,” Mickey grinned, the two laughing and getting along as if no time had passed at all, even if the situation was a tad awkward.

Jason downed his coke as if it were a shot. “Alright Mick,” he interrupted, putting on his manager shoes. “People are making their way in and you’re on the clock, so get to work,” he winked. “And Ian, lucky for you Mickey will be your guardian angel tonight, so you have nothing to worry about. C’mon, I’ll show you the change rooms.”

Mickey stepped aside and watched Jason walk Ian to the staff room, a thousand and one questions running through his mind.

Once the club began to fill and the music seemed to get even louder, Mickey focused on his job, standing back and keeping his eyes on the patrons dancing, drinking and having a good time. He also made sure to keep his eyes on Ian, who was rolling his hips and matching his choreography in time with the music.

It felt strange to see his friend in this environment, half naked and dancing to please the eyes of gay men that made their way through here every Friday night. While watching Ian, Mickey couldn’t help but notice how much more ripped he had become, and the tattoo that sat upon his ribcage of an eagle on a shotgun. The man on that platform was still the friend he had years ago, but he also seemed different. Although, Ian probably thinks Mickey's a lot different too.

Truth be told, Mickey felt protective over Ian, and not just because that’s his job. He had no business judging Ian for his choices, but he couldn’t help but wonder how someone went from being in the army, to a being go-go dancer in a gay nightclub. It just didn’t make sense to him, and watching his friend put himself on display and happily take tips in the waistband of his gold underwear left Mickey feeling uneasy.

If anything, Mickey just wanted to know that Ian was doing okay.

Mickey decided to make his rounds, working his way through the crowd of sweaty bodies dancing happily to _‘I Feel Love’_ by Donna Summer as he focused on his job. He looked up at Ian, the strobe lights nearly blinding him as he walked around the platform. He smiled back at Ian once he noticed Ian was grinning at him. Mickey couldn’t deny that Ian looked free up there, radiating confidence as if he had been dancing half naked all his life.

Mickey noticed a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair making his way over with a tip, and Ian began dancing in his direction just as he should. Mickey glued his eyes to the patron, slowly walking by as Ian let the man slip the $20 into his waistband.

Ian continued to dance, and the man took that as an invitation to touch Ian’s legs, his hands beginning to run up the back of his thighs which caused Mickey’s heart to leap out of his chest. He put an arm between Ian and the man, stepping towards him so he’d back off.

“What’d I do!?” The man complained.

“Sorry, can’t touch the dancers,” Mickey informed, keeping it professional.

“So, you can wave hot twinks in my face, but I’m not allowed to touch them?” he scoffed, “that’s fucked up, it used to be allowed.”

Mickey raised a brow, feeling heat run through his body. “Sir, this isn’t that type of place anymore, hasn’t been for a while. If you want a _twink_ to spend the night with, I suggest the bar two blocks over, or Grindr.”

“Fuck you,” the man spat in his face. Mickey smirked.

“Watch yourself, Sir, or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

The man shook his head and began to walk away, admitting defeat. Mickey grinned triumphantly, and Ian hopped down from his platform to give Mickey a pat on the shoulder.

“Thanks for that,” Ian practically yelled in his ear. “I had no idea what to do!”

Mickey shrugged, looking at Ian. “Just doin’ my job.”

Ian smiled kindly before looking in the direction the man left. “Hope he isn’t too pissed.”

“What’s he gonna do? Write a shitty review on Yelp?” Mickey scoffed, and Ian just laughed. “Now get back to work,” Mickey nudged, “Before Jason takes your tips off you.”

“Will he?”

“Nah, just fucking with you,” Mickey chuckled, and Ian smirked, making his way back onto his platform.

“Dick.”

“I heard that!”

“You were supposed to,” Ian replied, beginning to move his hips in time with the music again.

Mickey shook his head, a humorous smile on his face as he walked away, getting back to his own job where he made sure no other perverts were to touch Ian or the other dancers inappropriately.

By the time 2am hit, the club was finally closed, and everyone had left. Staff started to clean up the glasses and mop the floor, while the security guards took off their gear and the dancers put their clothes back on. It was the same routine as every other night that Mickey never thought twice about it, but once Ian turned the corner it threw Mickey off, suddenly making him well aware of the situation they were in.

“Hey,” Ian greeted while Mickey closed his locker, pulling on his coat.

“Hey, how’d you like your first night?”

“Could’ve been worse,” Ian shrugged, leaning against the lockers. He watched as another staff member walked towards them, slapping Mickey on the back so he could get his attention.

“Hey man, you stickin’ around tonight?” he asked Mickey, completely ignoring Ian’s existence.

“Nah, I’m fucking exhausted,” Mickey huffed before looking to Ian. “This is Ian, he’s the new dancer.”

The man nodded and held out a hand for Ian to shake. “Nice to meet you, I’m Juan.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ian replied politely, shaking his hand.

“You sticking around? We all enjoy a drink together at the end of the shift and talk shit. It’s kind of like a meeting, but fun.”

“Sounds fun,” Ian agreed, “but I probably can’t tonight—just like Mick, I’m exhausted.”

“C’mon, we’re all super nice, I promise,” Juan smiled brightly, but Mickey could see Ian still had those newbie nerves, chewing his bottom lip as he considered it.

“Maybe tomorrow,” he concluded. “It’s been a long night.”

“I get it, dude, no problem!” Juan looked between Ian and Mickey with a suggestive grin, making Mickey raise a brow. It wasn’t like that at all. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Mickey and Ian both said their goodbyes to Juan before making their way out of the staff room and out the door, waving the rest of their coworkers a quick goodbye so they could avoid being asked to stay once again.

Once they got into the early morning chill, Mickey pulled out his cigarettes to light one up. He could feel Ian’s eyes on him as he did the same, holding out a hand to borrow Mickey’s lighter.

Mickey handed it to him and watched his friend light up, inhaling deeply before passing it back.

“Thanks,” he exhaled. “You still got those tattoos?”

“Oh,” Mickey looked at his hands, showing off the _‘fuck u-up’_ tattooed on his knuckles. “Yeah, I mean, I tried washing them off, but nothin’s worked.”

Ian chuckled lightly, taking another drag. “Shame. Anyway, I better get home before I freeze to death.”

“You still livin’ southside?” Mickey questioned as Ian started to walk away. Ian turned and shook his head.

“Nah, I’m staying nearby.”

“Want me to drop you off? I don’t live far from here either.”

“You have a car?” Ian wondered, raising his brows in disbelief.

“It’s a shitty 2001 Impala,” Mickey told him, “But yeah, I got a car.”

“Wow look at you,” Ian smirked. “Security gig’s really working out for you.”

“Yeah,” Mickey huffed. “So, you want me to take you home or not?”

Ian hesitated as he sat on that thought. “Nah, it’s alright.”

“Alright, suit yourself,” Mickey shrugged, inhaling his smoke as he started to walk down the street towards his car. “See you!”

“You workin’ tomorrow!?” Ian called out, Mickey turned around, walking backwards.

“Nope! I work at _The Closet_ every other Saturday!”

“So, Sunday?”

“Tuesday!”

“I don’t work Tuesdays!”

Mickey smirked, turning back around. “Then I’ll see you next Friday, Gallagher!”

Mickey got to his car quickly, getting in and, holding his cigarette between his lips as he put the key in the ignition. Mickey put the car in drive, released the handbrake and drove off, making sure to wave goodbye to Ian who was walking towards the station.

Mickey felt an odd sense of contentment having Ian back in his life, as if he were incomplete while he was gone. As if a gaping hole where his friendship with Ian lied, was now being fulfilled, but he still had questions.

Questions that would keep him up at night until he got a proper chance alone with Ian to ask them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: @milkothicc


	2. Chapter 2

Mickey’s apartment wasn’t glamorous. It was old, dingy and had an odd smell that convinced him that the past tenant either died here or was a hoarder that had _many_ dead things living with them, but with the owner’s permission, he managed to clean it up well with the help of his best friend and roommate, Catia.

They worked hard to make this space a home, patching up holes and giving walls fresh licks of paint, as well as busting their asses to save money to get decent furniture. When they first moved in, they had nothing, but over the last few years they’ve turned this gloomy apartment into a somewhat cozy little getaway from life’s bullshit.

Mickey got inside the door and the place was dimly lit by the TV being left on. Netflix’s _‘Are you still watching?’_ on the screen while Catia slept peacefully on their couch, mouth hanging open as she snored softly, her glasses on the floor.

Mickey smirked, closing the door behind him carefully before picking up the glasses and sitting on the coffee table, shaking her shoulder gently. “Cati, wake up.”

Catia whined, frowning as she rolled onto her side, keeping her eyes closed.

“Fell asleep watching TV again, did ya?” Mickey chuckled, nudging her face with her glasses.

“Shut up,” she mumbled, slowly peeling her deep brown eyes open and taking the glasses from Mickey’s hand. “I was trying to get some work done for tomorrow and was watching that murder show you’re obsessed with.”

“ _I am a Killer_?”

“That’s the one.”

“Well, looks like it didn’t work out for you, huh?”

Catia hummed, putting on her glasses and sitting up so she could tie up her dark curly hair. Mickey looked to the plate of nearly finished pizza bagels and picked one up, popping it in his mouth, a look of disgust upon his face once he realized how cold they were.

“Why would you do that?” Catia laughed at Mickey. “I made those hours ago.”

“I can tell,” Mickey muffled on the food, getting up with the plate and turning the kitchen light on so he could see what he was doing.

“How was work, anyway?” His roommate wondered, watching Mickey throw away her food.

“Fine. You’ll never guess who showed up at work tonight.”

“Who?” Catia asked, not even wanting to guess as she pulled her blanket up and around her while Mickey put the plate in the sink.

“Ian Gallagher.”

“Fuck, really? Haven’t seen him since—”

“Graduation, I know.”

“That’s insane,” she exhaled. “Didn’t he enlist? And can you bring me my water please?”

Mickey rolled his eyes, going to the fridge to get her bottle. “Yeah, now he’s back, and not only that, but he’s workin’ at the Fairytail.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep,” Mickey replied, bringing her drink over. “He’s the dancer that replaced James.”

“Fuck James,” Catia muttered bitterly about Mickey’s ex-boyfriend while opening her bottle to take a drink. “But that must make it fun though, working together again.”

“I guess,” Mickey sighed, taking a seat beside her. “He seems different.”

“Different how?” She wondered, putting her bottle on the table.

“Dunno. Maybe it’s just ‘cause it’s been so long since I’ve seen him.”

“True,” she agreed. “Time changes everyone.”

Mickey sat on that thought, his mind reminding him of how times have changed and how different it used to be back when he worked with Ian at the _Kash ‘n’ Grab_ , where they’d waste time during their shifts by pulling pranks on one another, and then commit even more mischief outside of work. They were partners in crime, so to speak, and Ian was usually the sensible one that stopped Mickey from getting into _too_ much trouble.

Mickey only ever got close to Ian like that because he had to stay down in 10th grade, and that’s when he met Catia, too. So, staying down wasn’t the worst thing in the world when he put it in perspective.

Although, back then, he and Catia were lovers, which felt strange for both of them to look back on now. Catia claims it never bothered her, because she knew Mickey was gay, and had suspicions of it when they first met, but Mickey still hated himself for using her how he did—as some sort of protection, or way to prove to his family he liked girls, when he didn’t at all.

“Shit, it’s late,” Catia sighed while looking at her phone, getting off the couch and pulling Mickey away from his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“I’m going to head to bed,” She told him. “Are you staying up?”

“Probably not,” Mickey replied, his eyes feeling heavy from exhaustion. “Need a shower though.”

“Yeah, you do. I can smell you from here,” Catia laughed, heading for the hallway as Mickey flipped her off. “See you in the afternoon!”

“Yep!” Mickey waved her off before sighing, staring aimlessly at the TV screen for a few moments before switching it off and getting up. He needed to take a shower and get in bed before he ended up passing out on the couch for the second Saturday morning in a row.

The water was warm and comforting, running down Mickey’s back and soothing his muscles as he shampooed, washing the hair product from his scalp. He couldn’t seem to shake Ian from his mind, his shower thoughts obsessing with the _why’s_ and _how’s_ of his return. He wasn’t going to say he didn’t want him around, because that wasn’t the case—in fact, Mickey would love to hang out with him, it’s just that he had rarely thought about him since graduation.

When Mickey got out of the shower, he figured out what’s shaking him to his core. It was the fact that a part of the southside was coming back into his life, after spending years trying to get the fuck out of there, and he did get out of there, so to see Ian again was jarring, to say the least.

He was fine with Catia, considering she moved with him and has evolved with him, but to see an old friend he hadn’t thought about since high school was a lot to handle. He wasn’t even out of the closet yet at the time.

 _Shit_ , does Ian even know he’s gay?

Mickey internally groaned, rubbing his face with exhaustion and slight frustration. He really didn’t need to think about that shit right now.

By the time Mickey finally got into bed, he was wide awake despite the tiredness he felt. He recognized a soft ringing in his ears thanks to the Fairytail’s thumping music that he thought he'd be used to by now. 

He should’ve given Ian his number, he thought as his mind wondered back onto his friend. Mickey even started to consider reactivating his Facebook to contact him. He reached for his phone, but the bright screen that shined 4:18am in his face was enough to force him to put his phone back down. He sighed loudly, trying his best to get comfortable within his sheets and shut his eyes. He needed to stop thinking about Ian and the life he had in the southside.

He would let himself think about it in a week’s time, when he sees Ian again and actually has the chance to chat to him. Mickey badly wants to know what the fuck he’s been up to these past few years. 

* * *

Friday came around quicker than Mickey thought it would, and once again he was working the floor, but tonight Ian was dancing in the cage over the bar, which relieved Mickey slightly, because that meant no one could touch him up there.

That doesn’t mean Mickey wasn’t kept busy though, bouncing drunken idiots to the curb when necessary, and breaking up couples that were about to give each other hand-jobs in the public eye. Mickey wasn’t too mean about that, just telling them to move it to the bathroom so no one has to see it.

Mickey couldn’t lie, sometimes working as a security guard made him feel lonely, because he had to stand there, watching men grind and make out with each other all night long. He tried to fight the part of him that craved romantic and sexual affection, because he knew he couldn’t bring himself to trust someone enough for that again. For the past year, Grindr had been a vice for these cravings instead.

Thankfully, he received a message in his headpiece that told him something was going down in the upstairs bar and needed assistance, so Mickey responded and headed over, ready to sort the situation out.

Halfway through the shift Mickey finally caught a break, heading to the bathroom to relieve his bladder. Standing by the grimy urinal, he hummed along to the Rihanna song that was so loud it could be heard from the bathroom.

“Fuck!” A voice cried from one of the stalls, causing Mickey to freeze in his place and look down to the row of stalls.

“Shut the fuck up,” a familiar voice exhaled, and Mickey’s eyes grew wide once he realized what was going on here, the sounds of moans echoing throughout the bathroom loud and clear. He screwed his face up in disgust as he flushed. He didn’t need to hear that shit.

He quickly washed his hands, wanting to avoid having to listen to it any longer before heading back onto the dancefloor.

Mickey stood back, arms crossed as he leaned against the staircase to the seating area, just watching what was going on around him. Everyone started chanting along to the song, making Mickey smirk from amusement. He wished he were having half as much fun as these people were right now.

That’s when from the corner of his eye he saw Ian walking out from the hallway to the bathrooms, Mickey’s facial expression dropping immediately. He didn’t want to assume the one slurping down on dick was Ian, but once Mickey noticed him wiping his lips and tucking bills into his panties, Mickey couldn’t deny it, and it felt like a punch in the gut, a fire now rising within him.

He could feel his heart race at the idea of Ian selling himself that way. Who the fuck allowed this? From the second Jason took over as manager, dancers were banned from turning tricks, so what the hell did Ian think he was doing? Was that his choice? Mickey didn’t want to think Ian would be like _that_.

Mickey would report it, but he’s not a snitch. Especially if it would jeopardize his friend. He would have to mention it to him when the time is right, he didn’t want to say anything to push Ian away from him. In fact, he wanted to be close to him again. After a week of thinking and reminiscing on their past, he found himself missing Ian.

And for some reason, something in Mickey didn’t want to let go of Ian ever again.

After his shift, Mickey stuck around for a drink, not only to please Juan, but so he could offer Ian a ride home, maybe get some White Castle, and hopefully get some of his questions answered. So here Mickey sat, drinking a glass of beer and spending time with his coworkers while he waited for Ian to get changed.

When Ian finally came out from the staff room, everyone joyfully waved him over and Ian accepted a drink. Mickey just stared at him, trying to figure him out.

“So, where you from?” Juan asked, but just as Ian went to answer, Dylan, another guard, responded.

“He’s southside.”

“Oh, like Mickey!”

Mickey gave a tight-lipped grin, confirming, “Yep, like Mickey.”

“We grew up together,” Ian informed them, leaning his elbows on the bar and twirling his glass. “Graduated together.”

“Oh cute,” Andrea, the bartender, smirked.

“Hadn’t seen him in years, though,” Mickey told his coworkers, taking a few gulps of his beer.

“What? Have I changed?” Ian wondered, grinning over at Mickey who just shook his head.

“I don’t think so, maybe a little.”

“How so?”

“You’re fucking ripped for starters.”

Ian continued to smirk, “and?”

“And I don’t know what you’ve been up to, so yeah, you seem different,” Mickey said with more snark than he had intended.

Their coworkers went silent once they heard the harsh tone in Mickey’s honesty, Dylan muttering _‘shade’_ under his breath. Ian raised a brow, as if he weren’t trying to be insulted by how he said that.

“Well you seem different, too.”

“That’s good,” Mickey replied. “It’s been three years; we should be different.”

“Right,” Ian huffed, looking down at his drink before taking a sip from it.

“It’s true though,” Andrea raised. “Three years ago, I was an insecure little black girl living with my piece of shit dad and staying in the closet. Now I live with my girlfriend and don’t give a shit about what anyone else says. I’m proud of who I am.” She smiled brightly, pulling her caramel-blonde box braids to the side before reaching for Ian’s hand. “I guess one thing is for certain, and that’s that Mickey’s bitchy attitude hasn’t changed.”

Ian let out a laugh at that. “Absolutely.”

“Fuck you both,” Mickey huffed, trying not to laugh.

“You wish,” Ian chuckled, making Mickey flip him off.

“Fuck off!”

“Fine,” Ian grinned, downing the last of his drink. “Wanna join me for a smoke?”

Mickey chewed on his lip, a flutter of nervousness springing within him once he realized he was finally going to get the chance to ask the question that have bothered him all week. He thought he’d struggle to get Ian to open up, but Ian seemed just as willing to talk about life as Mickey did.

“Sure,” Mickey shrugged, downing the rest of his beer and grabbing his jacket off the bar. “Let’s go.”

Just like last week they got outside and lit up, exhaling with relief once they got that hit of nicotine. Ian shivered slightly, taking in deep inhales of the cigarette while Mickey watched the snow falling from the sky hit the ground.

“You hungry?” Mickey mumbled around the butt of his cigarette. “I’m kinda craving a sloppy joe.”

“At 3am?” Ian questioned.

“Yeah, I always eat this late. I’m usually fuckin’ asleep all day.”

“Jesus, that can’t be good for you—”

“You think I care?” Mickey scoffed. “Look, do you want to come or not?” Mickey asked, “I’ll drop you home after.”

“Uh,” Ian hesitated, making Mickey raise his brows curiously. What the hell was with him being weird about getting dropped at home?

“Or I’ll leave you at the White Castle, whatever you want.”

“That’s not—” he sighed. “I need to fit into those gold undies tomorrow night.”

“Then don’t get anything, I’ll give you a mint instead, or are you scared to have those two calories?”

“Fuck you,” Ian barked a laugh.

“Fine,” Mickey huffed, inhaling more smoke into his lungs.

“You’re not giving me a choice about comin’, are you?

“Well I’m not lettin’ you walk home this late at night, in this weather, with all the fuckheads around, so yeah, you’re coming.”

“Alright, let’s go then. Where’s your car?”

Mickey pointed down the street, flicking his cigarette away. “Come on.”

Things seemed to get more tense in the car. Ian stared out the window to the city lights while Mickey focused on the road, listening to the painfully bad remix music that was on the radio this late at night.

Mickey could feel Ian was off, either frustrated or on edge about something, and maybe that was Mickey’s fault due to his attitude problem, but Mickey had no idea how to go about this now that he had a moment alone with him.

He hadn’t been alone with him since he was 18. He’s 22 now. They aren’t who they used to be, that much was clear.

“Can I change the station?” Ian broke the silence, Mickey just shrugged, not seeing how any station would be better.

Ian helped himself then, flicking through the stations one by one until deciding to just turn it off, sighing with a tired frustration.

“Nothing on.”

Mickey hummed.

“Did I do something to piss you off?” Ian questioned; Mickey’s fingers gripped tighter to the wheel, hating how Ian read him like a book.

“No, what gave you that idea?”

“Because you’re being a bit of a dick, ” Ian told him, straight up and honest.

“Excuse me?” Mickey’s eyebrows shot up, giving Ian a quick glare.

Ian rolled his eyes. “Look, don’t worry about it. Just drop me off here, I’m not far from home.”

Mickey felt his heart jump, swallowing as he begged himself not to reveal the truth. “No, man—I just—” he sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. “It’s been a long night, okay?”

“And?”

The traffic lights turned amber, Mickey moved his foot to the brake and slowed down to a seemingly dead intersection as he considered his options. He could lie, or he could be honest with someone he’s always been honest with.

Maybe it would be better to mention it while it’s burning his mind, instead of letting his feelings build up the way he would as a teenager.

“It’s just—Don’t get pissed, okay? And I-I don’t want you to think I’m fuckin’ shaming you or some shit because that’s not what—”

“What the hell are you talking about right now?”

“I heard you. In the bathroom.” Mickey turned to look at Ian who looked like the blood had drained from his already pasty complexion.

“What do you mean? What do you think I was doing?” Ian questioned, his speech getting quicker. “How do you know it was me? I—”

“You’re such a bad fucking liar,” Mickey huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Always have been.”

Ian shut his mouth, swallowing hard. Mickey gave him a tight-lipped smile as he continued to stare at his friends face that was only visible thanks to the streetlights and moonlight. He didn’t want Ian thinking he was ashamed of him or thought that he was a whore. Ian had to know that.

“Look, you do what you gotta do. I get it, I get you need cash but—”

“Mick. Green,” Ian nodded to the traffic light.

“Shit,” Mickey muttered, his foot nearly slamming on the accelerator. “Anyway, I get it, but Jason doesn’t allow tricks at the Fairytail anymore. He bought the place a year ago off the old boss and really fixed it up. If he found out you were doing more than you should, you’ll be in deep shit.”

“I know,” Ian mumbled. “I didn’t have a choice.”

Mickey furrowed his brows, not wanting to believe that as he turned into White Castle.

“What do you mean? Did someone make you?”

Ian went quiet, slouching down as he crossed his arms. “No, I’m desperate for cash.”

Mickey still couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he could tell that Ian was hiding something, but he decided to drop it. For now.

“Whatever,” Mickey mumbled, rolling down his window as he approached the drive-thru box. “Tell me what you want, I’m buying.”

Once they got their food Mickey pulled into the parking lot so they could enjoy it, Ian thanking Mickey as he practically inhaled his food. Mickey’s eyes grew wide, unable to keep his thoughts to himself.

“You sick or something?”

“What?” Ian nearly choked on his mouthful, reaching for his coke.

“Like,” Mickey waved his hand around, trying to explain, “You got anorexia or some shit?”

“Jesus Mickey—”

“Do you?”

“No! I’m just poor and hungry, holy fuck.”

“You don’t get yourself food?”

“I do, but I had to give away half my pay, so I’m screwed until next Monday.”

“Shit,” Mickey muttered, feeling himself ache for his friend. “Well you’re more than welcome to come over and raid my kitchen whenever you like.”

Ian let out a chuckle at that, making Mickey smile, thankful he didn’t seem to make Ian feel worse.

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Mickey bit his lip, reaching for his drink as he started up new conversation. “Where you livin’ anyway?”

“With my mom,” Ian told him, shoving fries in his mouth.

“Monica, really?” Mickey’s brows raised. “How she doin’?”

“She’s…Monica,” Ian gave a tired laugh. “Anyway, what’s up with you these days? Where are you living?”

“Literally 5 fuckin’ minutes away, me and Catia got a shitty apartment together after graduation."

“Oh wow! You and Catia are still a thing, huh?”

Mickey nearly snorted, “What?”

“What?”

They went quiet, staring at each other as Mickey tried not to laugh at Ian’s obliviousness.

“You,” Mickey paused. “You know I’m gay, right?”

“What!?” Ian nearly screamed, jumping slightly. “Since when?”

“Since fuckin’ always,” Mickey laughed, finding so much amusement in Ian’s reaction as he shoved his own fries in his mouth.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t tell anyone until after high school.”

“But, I’m gay! You could’ve told me? Did Catia know?”

“Yeah, she knew, but that’s only so I didn’t drag it out and keep dodging sex with her.”

Ian huffed, staring out the windscreen.

“What?” Mickey questioned Ian’s silence.

“I’m kind of offended.”

“What, you didn’t even sense I might be?”

“Gaydar doesn’t exist, Mickey.”

“I work security at _gay clubs_ , Ian.”

“And that’s supposed to tell me you’re a raging homo?”

Mickey smirked. “Guess not.”

“Jesus, Mick,” Ian sighed, finishing off his slider and speaking with his mouth full, “I hate to sound like a straight bitch but when did you know? Who was your first?”

“Roger Spikey.”

“Fuck. Off.”

“I know.”

“Roger-donkey-dick-Spikey. You fucked him too?”

Mickey felt his cheeks burn at the memory as he disclosed, “More like he fucked me.”

“No fucking way, and you didn’t tell me?”

“Nothin’ to tell. It wasn’t that eventful.”

“Wish I could say the same—Wait, did you fuck before or after I fucked him?”

“I don’t know,” Mickey mumbled around his sloppy joe. “I guess before? Because when you told me, I had already had sex with him.”

“Wow,” Ian stared out the window, completely taken away by the information he had found out.

Mickey chuckled as he finished off his meal, scrunching up their rubbish to putting it in the paper bag just to throw it in the back with the rest of the trash in his car.

The air between them seemed so much lighter now just by revealing all this information, or maybe they were just hangry and were now satisfied. Either way, Mickey liked that Ian was still mostly _Ian_ despite whatever life has thrown his way.

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?” Ian wondered then, meeting with Mickey’s eyes. Mickey picked food from his teeth as he hesitated. He would rather forget, but Ian was someone he trusted.

“Yeah. Once,” Mickey sighed. “James. We were together for over a year, he was a dancer until he left, then you replaced him.”

“Really? What happened?”

Mickey shrugged. “He says he fell out of love, that we had nothing in common and all this shit. Of course, the sex was bomb, but that’s all I was to him, so he left me and then I had to watch him dance three nights a week for six months until he fucked off to do some shitty Contiki tour.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry Mickey.”

“Doesn’t bother me, I knew he wasn’t the one I’d spend my life with or whatever.”

“Yeah,” Ian replied, his mind seeming to drift off somewhere else.

“What about you?” Mickey wondered, “you seeing anyone?”

Ian huffed, “Definitely not. I’ve never had a relationship.”

“Never?”

“My life’s been too fucked up for a relationship,” Ian laughed, “or I just haven’t found someone I trusted enough to be like that with, you know?”

Mickey nodded, “Yeah man, I get it. If I was still livin’ in southside and didn’t go to any gay clubs I would be the same. Thank fuck I got out.”

Mickey could tell Ian was fighting back his smile, staring at him with so much warmth in his eyes it made Mickey feel flustered.

“What?”

Ian let out his smile now, nudging Mickey. “I’m proud of you.”

“For what?”

“For being you. For not letting the place we grew up in trap you. I never in a thousand years would imagine you to be an openly gay guy working security in Boystown, but I love it. It suits you.”

“Suits me,” Mickey repeated with a huff, “the fucks that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, I get delusional at this time. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I like this Mickey more than the aggressive asshole I knew as a kid, but somehow, you being gay makes total sense because you had to bottle that shit up. I was always out, but for you to go through that, especially with your dad, fuck I can’t imagine—”

“Alright shut the fuck up,” Mickey laughed slightly, trying not to dig any deeper. “You really are delusional."

Ian just hummed, leaning his head back on the seat and closing his eyes. “Think I need to sleep.”

“Yeah, I’ll take you home now,” Mickey told him as he started the car. “Lead the way.”

Once back on the road Ian and Mickey spoke with very little tension between them now, more just talking about life and funny things that had happened to them during the years they weren’t in contact.

Ian started telling Mickey about his time in the army and when his training instructor burst into his room. “He was chasing me! I was so scared, and I ran smack into a water fountain and busted it right off the wall!” He laughed at himself, and Mickey laughed along, finding more humor in his laugh than the story. “Seriously Mickey it was fucking ridiculous, water sprayed everywhere! Then my TI made everyone get up at 2AM so they can watch me do pushups in the freezing cold water while _singing_.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey’s laugh softened. “Is that why you left?”

Ian went quiet then, and when Mickey looked to him Ian pointed back to the road. “Next right.”

“’Kay. And I’m only assumin’ you left. Did you choose to leave?”

“Uh,” Ian let out a sigh. “Can we not talk about that tonight?”

“Shit,” Mickey felt guilt flood his gut. “Yeah man. Sorry.”

“It’s alright, and my place is on the corner to the left.”

“Alright,” Mickey muttered, pulling up in front of a typical Chicago townhouse that had lights on inside and a small garden out front. Ian opened the door and gave Mickey a smile.

“Thanks for dropping me off, and the food.”

“Of course, and wait, where’s your phone? I’ll give you my number.”

Ian handed his phone right over and Mickey passed Ian his own, the two of them exchanging numbers before trading back.

“Text me whenever you’re bored or need a place to crash, alright?”

Mickey couldn’t help but notice the way Ian’s eyes seemed to melt into his when they met, as if he were more than grateful for Mickey being kind to him. Maybe Mickey really had changed a lot since they last hung out, he never noticed it but there’s no way 18-year-old Mickey would be this open and considerate.

“Thanks,” Ian choked, getting out of the car before Mickey could say anything else. “See you!”

Mickey waved as Ian shut the door and slowly began driving off, watching Ian in the rearview as he walked away from the townhouse Mickey thought he was staying at, crossing the street and walking through the gate of the abandoned home on the opposite corner.

_Shit._

Should he turn around and tell Ian to get back in the car so he can take him back to his place? Mickey should’ve figured Monica would be homeless if it’s just her and Ian, but if she’s homeless, why would Ian not go back to his siblings in the southside?

Mickey had to drop the thought for now, there was no point worrying when Ian clearly wasn’t ready to talk about it. If Mickey was still concerned later, he could text him. He didn’t need to coddle Ian. Mickey knew deep down that Ian would be okay, or at least that’s what he hoped.

He really thought he would have most of his questions answered tonight, but instead he gained more.


	3. Chapter 3

“Do you think my dad will like what I got him?” Catia wondered, pulling Mickey out of his thoughts and into this moment with his best friend, where he’s lugging her bags of Christmas presents through the mall while she continues to shop.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” Mickey replied, cursing himself for agreeing to join her. He loves his best friend more than anything, but he absolutely loathes shopping and loathes Christmas even more.

“You would know better than me at this point,” Catia pointed out with a chuckle as they walked towards _Red Mango_. “Remember thanksgiving? You guys sat up past midnight talking about 80’s movies and Van Damme and some dude named Seagal. I don’t even know who the fuck Segal is!”

Mickey could’ve stopped right there, dropped her bags and told her she can walk herself home. “The fuck you mean you don’t know who Steven Seagal is?”

“Sorry,” Catia laughed as they waited in the short queue to get their smoothies. “As if I’d pay attention to a dumb action movie.”

Mickey shook his head in disappointment. “I made you watch his movies with me! You know, the dude with the ponytail? How do you _not_ remember the ponytail?”

“Must’ve blocked it out for a reason,” she joked half-mindedly, staring up at the menu as if she didn’t already know what she was getting.

Once Catia was called up to order, Mickey stared at the menu while he made up his mind and once it was his time to order, he settled on the ‘ _Super Peanut Butter Cup’_ smoothie and ordered it, feeling his phone buzz as he handed over the cash to the lovely cashier behind the register.

Mickey waited to the side with Catia, his phone vibrating in his pocket once again to remind him that someone wanted his attention. He pulled out his phone to find two text messages. One from Jason, and the other from Ian.

 **Jason:** _‘Hey everyone! Hope you’re all well! Just wanted to announce that just like last year, instead of a (boring) Christmas party, we will be doing another New Year’s celebration at my place! If you’d like to come, please respond ASAP!’_

 **Ian:** _‘Did you get Jason’s text too? Are you going?’_

Mickey started to reply, while Catia annoyingly peeked over his shoulder.

“Who ya talkin’ to?”

“Ian,” Mickey mumbled, too focused on his phone.

 **Mickey:** _‘Yeah probably, it’s better than being forced to work. Did you want to go?’_

“Oh, so you guys are best buds again, huh?” Catia questioned teasingly.

“He’s just asking if I’m going to Jason’s New Year’s party.”

“Cute,” she grinned, going up to collect her smoothie. “Are you?”

“I mean why not?” Mickey wondered as he went and collected his smoothie also, forcing Catia to hold some of her bags with her free hand. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

“You _could_ come with me to visit dad, spend Christmas and New Year’s with us again.”

Mickey huffed, giving her a tight-lipped smile as they walked towards the carpark.

“Thanks, but I can’t. One, don’t have any money, two, I have work Christmas Eve, and three, I’d rather sit at home and watch shitty television than go to Hawaii to see your family celebrate and have a good time while I’m reminded that my family fucking hates me.”

His best friend frowned, trying to console him. “Your family doesn’t hate you.”

Mickey shook his head stubbornly; he’s not naïve, he knows the truth.

“My dad probably does.”

Catia sighed, the two of them sipping on their smoothies as the conversation stopped there. They’ve spoken many times about the _probably’s_ of Mickey’s family, how they are and how they felt about Mickey leaving them with a note about his sexuality before walking out the door, never to be seen again.

Mickey’s sure his siblings don’t give a shit, they never have, but he knows how his dad, uncles and aunts feel about homosexuality.

He knew what being out of the closet meant. It meant being alone on family holidays and never meeting new nieces, nephews or cousins. It meant that all the ‘family’ he had weren’t family by blood. Like Catia. She can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, but he cares for her unconditionally just as family should.

“Fine,” Catia concluded, swallowing her mouthful. “You can sulk around on Christmas and miss out on our lūʻau, that’s fine.”

Mickey smiled then at the memory from the last year. “What’s there to miss? Your uncles calling me ‘Haole’? Your dad drinking me under the fuckin’ table? Or your cousins making me play _Moana_ with them?”

“All of that and more,” Catia giggled, nudging him as they exited the mall, feeling the frosty chill of the air as they reached Mickey’s car. “You do stick out like a sore thumb over there, but that’s why they’ll miss you.”

“Yeah, I’ll miss ‘em too,” Mickey sighed as he unlocked his car, opening the trunk so they could put Catia’s truck load of gifts inside. “Maybe next year.”

“That’s alright, we can just FaceTime!”

“Fuck no,” Mickey joked, “I’ll be on there all night with how many of you there are.”

“Very funny,” she replied sarcastically as she got into the passenger side while Mickey got in the front and started the car.

“What about your mom?” Mickey wondered, putting his smoothie in the cup holder before pulling out and driving toward home.

“What about her?” Catia replied, chewing on her straw.

“You going to see her before you leave?”

“Maybe, if she’s not going anywhere with Robert.”

“Fair enough,” Mickey closed the conversation, leaving it at that. He knew Catia didn’t have the best relationship with her mom, and knows she will always be angry at her for cheating on her dad and making Catia move with her back to her hometown in Illinois.

But that’s when Mickey met her, which changed both of their lives for the better. Although, he can’t ignore the fact that the divorce was hard for his best friend, remembering when they started dating and how she cried to him about it.

Of course, Mickey’s been through a lot worse than a family divorce. His own mom was dead by that point, but he still felt for her. Having a perfect life and having it crushed must be harder than having a shitty life that just gets a little shittier sometimes.

“Ian just texted you,” Catia said, pulling Mickey’s focus off the road as she reached for his phone.

“What’s it say?”

“It says he’s going if you are.”

Mickey’s eyes looked back to the road, a smile of relief creeping onto his face that unlike Christmas, he won’t have to be alone on New Year’s Eve.

* * *

When work came around, it wasn’t as wild as Mickey was hoping it would be. The night dragged on so slowly that all Mickey wanted to do was go home, get into something comfortable and get in his bed. He wasted time the best he could, small talking with patrons, wandering through crowds just for the sake of it and of course, watching the go-go dancer’s do what they do best.

Seeing Ian here was easier to deal with now, in fact, it was beginning to feel natural for him to be here. He fit in so well with the crew and it felt almost how it had when they were kids—except now they were adults working in a gay club. That was the only difference, really.

They had spent the last two weeks reacquainting, mostly over text, but they could speak all day and night with ease, sometimes texting until early in the morning about nothing important, just making jokes and talking about things they enjoyed.

Mickey stood back, arms crossed as he watched Ian move his body on stage, flashing lights of blue, purple, red and yellow dancing all over his body.

There was something about the energy Ian gave off that made him so enigmatic to Mickey, drawing him in with the need to know more and more.

They spoke so often but Mickey still felt like he didn’t know much about Ian’s current life, which must be why Mickey couldn’t go a day without speaking to Ian about _something_.

Mickey couldn’t really explain it, but there was something about Ian that filled him with a joy, one that was so similar to what he shares with Catia, but not quite. It was different, yet wonderful, and made him feel 15 again.

Maybe it was the nostalgia that pulled him in, or the fact that he and Ian were always good friends despite the distance. Ian was a true friend, just as much as Catia was, and he silently hated the fact that he never kept in contact with Ian after graduation, because if they had, Mickey never would’ve allowed Ian to fall the way that he has.

Sometime throughout the night, the Fairytail got more packed, and the music seemed to just get louder as people got looser from the alcohol in their system. This was the most entertaining point in the night for Mickey though, since this is when everyone gains confidence and gets into situations that Mickey would have to step in to resolve, but He also loves watching drunk men vogue while everyone crowds around to cheer them on.

Most of the guys were regulars who often begged Mickey to join their little dance-offs but Mickey couldn’t, no matter how many times they asked. Not only would it be wrong because he’s on the job, but even if he wanted to, he couldn’t. Not with his two left feet.

When _Juice_ began to play, the men started shouting along, jumping and dancing to the beat, distracting Mickey until he noticed something through the crowd that quickly raised the alarm. He locked eyes with a dancer that he believed was named Sean, getting into an argument with a patron. Mickey moved swiftly, not paying any attention to anything but the situation.

“What’s going on here?” Mickey questioned, noticing the distress in Sean’s eyes.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Mickey scoffed; brows raised high as he looked to the patron. “Sir, can you explain why you’re arguing with our dancer?”

The older man swallowed a lump in his throat, shaking his head. “Didn’t like the tip I gave him.”

“Bullshit!” Sean shoved, “You—”

“Hey!” Mickey stepped between the men, looking Sean in the eyes. “Get back to work, okay? I’ll deal with the prick.”

Sean tightened his jaw, looking to the man who stood smugly behind Mickey. “Fine,” He gave in, walking away. Mickey sighed and turned to face the patron.

“This is a warnin’ sir. If you start anything else, you’re kicked to the curb, got it?”

“Sure,” He huffed, knocking Mickey with his shoulder as he made his way past.

Mickey smacked his lips together and took a deep breath. He would definitely be keeping his eyes on that man, and letting the other guards know through his walkie talkie, describing that the man was a middle aged, six-foot tall brunet with brown eyes and wore a light blue polo shirt.

As he made his way through the club, repeating the information to make sure the team got it, he felt himself stop at the sight of Ian by the bar, huddled over the counter with Sean right beside him, rubbing his back as he spoke into his ear.

Mickey couldn’t resist going over to them, not even because of his job, but because this was one of his friends and he didn’t look so hot.

“Yo, Ian! You okay?” He wondered, placing his hand on his friends’ shoulder, looking to Sean who mirrored the same level of apprehension as Mickey had. Ian was practically unresponsive, giving a slight nod before standing up straight.

“I’m great,” he slurred, “I better—woah, Mick!” he smiled elatedly. “Your eyes!” Ian grabbed a hold of his head, staring deeply into his friends’ eyes while Mickey stood completely still, stunned as those green eyes bored into his.

Mickey jolted when he felt a hand on his shoulder, both him and Ian looking to find Jason behind him.

“You guys alright?”

“I’m fine!” Ian responded chipperly, as if nothing were wrong.

“Okay well I need to put my manager shoes on and remind you that my stages are missing dancers!” he spoke as kind yet authoritative as he could. “You and Sean need to get back out there.”

“Yes, boss,” Sean nodded, walking away and Ian gave a nod also, walking off without another word.

“You don’t think that was a bit weird?” Mickey spoke into Jason’s ear.

“I don’t know! You’re probably just paranoid.”

 _Paranoid._ Mickey sighed, concern written all over his face as he watched Ian get back up on his stage and move in time with the music so gracefully that he looked like he was floating on air.

Pushing worry aside, Mickey had to focus on his job. The night had peaked and now it was time for the come down, where most of the troubles arise. Mickey broke up arguments and kept his eye on the bar in case people were a bit _too_ far gone and needed to be sent home before the poor staff had a horrible mess to clean up when the club closed.

Drunk adults were like toddlers, and Mickey has no clue how he has the patience to handle it, considering he’s never really wanted children of his own, but he was pretty good at his job, and took the time to talk patrons down from whatever ledge they were on.

Sometime around 1am Mickey could feel exhaustion start to settle into his bones. He was aching, and craving a cigarette, but there was only one more hour to go. He could do it. 

Mickey took a break from watching the bar and did a quick scan of the crowd as he walked through, hands in his pockets as he looked around. His brows furrowing once he noticed one on the stages were empty—oh shit. _Ian_.

He stopped in the crowd, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth as he tried not to panic, but of course all he could do was think of the _what if’s_. When Mickey last saw him, Ian was slurring his words and was completely washed out. Maybe he was told to go home? Mickey would have to ask Jason.

Mickey turned around, heading back towards the bar where he last saw his boss, but quickly caught notice of a patron screaming in the face of Felix, the scrawny, young ginger bartender that was too kind for his own good.

“Fuck sake.”

When Mickey got his hand on the man that was screaming in his dear coworker’s face, he pulled him towards the door, ignoring the bullshit he was screaming in Mickey’s ear.

“I didn’t do anything!” he quarreled, as if Mickey didn’t witness it for himself. “I just wanted to get a fucking drink!”

“Think you’ve had enough to drink,” Mickey mumbled, recognizing the smell of drunk in the man’s breath. “You’re lucky you’re not banned.”

“Fuck—”

Mickey pulled open the door, patting the guy on the back on his way out. “Have a good night, buddy.”

“Fuck you!” He turned around, kicking dirty snow in Mickey’s direction before turning around and walking off.

Something caught the corner of Mickey’s eye then, and when he looked to his left, he saw something he wished he hadn’t. Ian was passed out, head against the brick wall while his half naked body laid on the dirty, rough snow.

Mickey didn’t hesitate, his heart pounding as he made his way over, couching down to feel his pulse and listen to his breathing. He was still alive, thank god, but when Mickey shook his arm, Ian didn’t stir. He was completely unconscious, and his skin was so cold he’d honestly be giving Edward a run for his money.

Mickey responded efficiently from there, talking through to his team about where he was, who he was with and to bring Jason, as well as both his and Ian’s stuff.

“What happened to you?” Mickey whispered to his friend, rubbing his skin with hopes the friction would not only warm him up, but wake him.

Mickey knew something was up, and he was mentally kicking himself for not doing something about it sooner. It ached him to know Ian was in such a dark place, life was so unkind to him. Whether he did this to himself or was roofied, Mickey felt for him, he wanted to help him.

He just wanted to save him from whatever mess he was in. There’s no way he could deal with another hour of work; he couldn’t leave Ian like this or trust him in the care of Monica in that abandoned crack den of a home he had been staying in. Ian was coming home with him and he would make sure Ian got through the night. That was the least he could do.

Dean and Jason were there in minutes, completely rocked by the sight of Ian while Mickey pulled Ian’s arm through the sleeve of his coat, hoping it would warm him up enough until he got him home.

“What should we do?” Dean wondered. “Take him to the hospital?”

“No, he’s okay, just needs to sleep it off,” Mickey assured, even though he wasn’t so sure himself. “I’m going to take him to my place now.”

“O-Okay,” Jason gulped, still shaken. “I’ll clock you out.”

“Thanks,” Mickey gratefully responded, lifting Ian up to get the other arm through the coat sleeve. “Someone want to help take him to my car?”

“I will,” Dean raised a hand, and Jason followed.

“I will too.”

The three men carried Ian to Mickey’s car, the deadweight of this long, muscular redhead giving them a work-out as they trudged through the snow. Ian didn’t even stir, his head resting limply against Mickey’s neck as Mickey’s arms wrapped tight around Ian’s chest.

“What do you think happened?” Dean questioned, breathing heavily as they neared Mickey’s Impala.

“I’m hoping he didn’t take anything,” Jason added, “last thing I need is another dancer that’s coked up on the job.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “I know Ian, alright? I doubt he did this to himself.”

“Roofied?” Dean raised. “That’s gonna be hard to chase up.”

Jason hummed. “I really hope that’s not the case, because then others are at risk.”

“Maybe it was the old dude Sean had an issue with?” Dean continued to speculate. “What do you think, Mick?”

“I-I don’t know,” Mickey cleared his throat, not really wanting to discuss it as they stopped at his car. Jason and Dean took a hold of Ian while Mickey unlocked his car, opening the backseat door and clearing the seat so his coworkers could place his friend inside, as well as his and Mickey’s belongings.

Mickey pulled out his phone, getting ready to call Catia and prepare her to help take Ian up to their apartment, while Jason shut the car door.

“Message the chat tomorrow with an update, okay?”

“Will do,” Mickey nodded, giving both men a smile as they said goodbye, patting Mickey’s shoulder as they walked back toward the club.

Mickey breathed deeply then, pressing on Catia’s number as he got into his car.

“Hey, Cati? Sorry for wakin’ you, but I need some help.”

“You really weren’t kidding,” Catia mumbled sleepily, her body shivering as she pulled her bathrobe tight around her as she watched Mickey put two backpacks over his shoulder.

“You think I’d make this shit up?”

“No,” she shook her head, looking up at the streetlight while she yawned. “Just couldn’t believe it, thought I was still dreaming.”

“Just help me,” Mickey grumbled, ignoring her as he tried to pull Ian out of the car, Catia’s eyes widening at the sight of her old friend.

“Jesus, he did get hot.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Mickey groaned as he pulled him out. Catia quickly scooped Ian up and pulled his arm over her shoulder as Mickey locked the car door, joining Cati in pulling his other arm around his shoulder so they could lift him up the steps.

Ian seemed slightly attentive now, his eyes blearily open so he could drag himself up the stairs to Mickey’s apartment with the help of both Mickey and Catia. He would have no idea where he was, and he probably wasn’t awake enough to even recognize that he wasn’t at work anymore.

The friends got him up the stairs with little complaints, both of them heaving once they reached their level and got him down the hall to their apartment. Catia quickly opened the door and let Mickey drag Ian through.

“Where are you gonna put him?”

“My room, open my door for me?”

Catia didn’t question it, running for Mickey’s room so she could open the door and pull back the sheets so they could tuck Ian in. Mickey pulled him in and lowered him onto the mattress as slowly as he could, taking his coat off so he wouldn’t overheat in his sleep while Catia took his shoes off.

“Should we put him in something more comfortable?” She wondered, pulling Mickey’s eyes away from Ian’s seemingly peaceful features.

“Like what? I don’t know if he’s wearing anything under those gold shorts.”

Catia grimaced disgustingly at the thought. “Does the club even wash those things?”

Mickey rubbed his face with frustration and fatigue. He really didn’t know what to do.

However, the bold, shameless nature of Catia knew what to do and she leaned over the unconscious body, slowly pulling down Ian’s gold shorts without a care, Mickey quickly slapped her hand away.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he whispered harshly.

“I was just checking! And yes, he’s wearing underwear.”

Mickey stared at his best friend, completely blown away by her carelessness. “We aren’t changing his clothes!”

“Fine!” she put her hands in the air. “It was just an idea. I’ll just go get the bucket in case he wakes up and can’t find the bathroom.”

Mickey watched Catia walk out of his room then looked down at Ian, noticing the graze on his cheekbone that was caused by the brick exterior of the Fairytail. Mickey let out a sigh, moving Ian onto his side so he wouldn’t choke on any vomit before pulling up his sheets to tuck the man in. At least Ian could sleep in an actual bed tonight, Mickey was glad he could provide some comfort, even if Ian’s too unconscious to notice.

Catia came back in with the bucket and Mickey placed it by the bedside, crouching down to be at Ian’s eye level, shaking Ian’s shoulder gently.

“Ian,” Mickey whispered softly, Ian let out a slight groan. “There’s a bucket here in case you feel sick, okay? And I’m going to leave a glass of water too.”

Ian didn’t respond, but Mickey hoped the message would seep into his subconscious so when he did wake up, he wouldn’t be too confused. Mickey made his way passed Catia and into the kitchen to get the glass of water, his best friend following like she was a lost puppy.

“Where are you going to sleep?”

“Dunno if I’ll be able to,” Mickey replied as he grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with tap water.

“You have to at least try, you have work tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Mickey bluntly responded, not caring for his own needs right now.

“Alright, well, I’m going to back to sleep. You can sleep with me if you feel like it,” She let him know with a gentle smile before heading for the hallway.

“Thanks.”

Catia nodded before turning to look back at Mickey. “He’ll be okay, Mick. If he’s still the Ian I know, he can recover from anything. Gallagher’s are survivors, and all that shit,” she chuckled, clearly making fun of the family that constantly preach their last name as if it excuses everything they do with their lives.

Mickey couldn’t help but laugh, thankful for his best friend who always manages to put a smile on his face even when he feels like absolute shit. “Goodnight, Catia.”

“’Night,” she smiled, slapping the archway as she rounded the corner, heading to her room.

Mickey looked down to the glass he held in his hands, his smile slowly disappearing from his lips. Sure, Gallagher’s were survivors, but he still needed to make sure Ian made it through the night. He couldn’t not worry, that was just his nature.

* * *

A constant thumping raged through Ian’s brain as he stirred from his sleep. He felt strange, as if he were on another planet. He was surrounded by a familiar, comfortable scent that was also so foreign. He slowly peeled his eyes open, realizing he was somewhere he had never been before, the mattress beneath him far softer than anything he’s ever slept on in his entire life.

There was a tightness on his cheek that burned only slightly, he placed his fingers gently on the spot, feeling the scratches from whatever happened to him last night. That’s when he sat up, assessing his surroundings.

What did happen last night?

There weren’t many clues in the room to give Ian any type of indication. In fact, it was kind of just _messy_. Clothes were sprawled everywhere, not in a sexy way, and there weren’t any pictures, mostly just posters on the walls of musicians, movies and a clearly stolen street sign named ‘Gay Ct’ which Ian honestly thought was very clever.

When Ian lifted the sheets, he noticed he was still in his work shorts which let him know he didn’t get here by choice, because he would never leave the club wearing them. So, what happened?

Ian noticed the glass of water and bucket next, but chose to ignore both of them as he didn’t know where he was or if they were for him, but next all he really wanted was to pee, so he braced the open doorway and entered the hallway where only two doors remained—one ahead and one to the left. Ian assumed left would be the bathroom and thank god, he was right.

While doing his business, Ian began to notice some things. Like, hair straighteners, make up, more than one toothbrush in the toothbrush holder. Nothing out of the ordinary, especially in a gay person’s house, but made him curious, nonetheless.

Once Ian finished in the bathroom, and despite being in just some gold shorts, he made his way through to the living area. That’s when he recognized a young Polynesian girl filling up a travel mug with coffee, and then Mickey, who was dead asleep on the couch with his leg sprawled off to the side as he snored gently. Of course, he was at Mickey’s, which meant the girl was Catia. It all made sense now.

“Oh, you’re up!” Catia greeted with a whispered, yet excited tone. “How are you feeling?”

“U-Uh good, yeah,” Ian awkwardly walked over, wrapping his arms around himself as he realized just how naked he was.

“Here,” Catia moved around, grabbing Ian’s backpack from the armchair. “I’m assuming you have a change of clothes in here.”

“Yeah, I do,” Ian laughed slightly as he took the bag from her. “Thanks. How are you, by the way?”

“Yeah, fine,” she laughed, happy to small talk as if the situation wasn’t slightly awkward. “I’m going to go visit my mom before I head to Hawaii to spend the holidays with dad. How about you?”

Ian shrugged, “same old, same old—You look good! I mean, I honestly didn’t recognize you at first.”

“Well, thanks,” she laughed, flicking her hair over her shoulder at the compliment. “Though it could just be you recovering from whatever you were on, you’re probably just hazy.”

“About that,” Ian stopped her there. “What happened?”

“I wish I knew,” she told him apologetically. “Mickey found you passed out at the Fairytail and had me help you upstairs. I have no clue what happened.”

“Alright, well, thanks anyway. I should probably get changed now.”

“Take a shower if you want!” She nicely offered. “There’s always spare toothbrushes under the sink too so you know, freshen up. It’ll help you feel better.”

Ian smiled thankfully at his old friend. “You’re always so nice.”

“Oh stop—” Catia’s phone dinged and she checked it, rolling her eyes. “God dammit I have to go.” She reached for her handbag. “It was so nice seeing you, and I’m not sure if Mickey remembered to set an alarm, but he has work at four.”

“O-Okay,” Ian nodded, looking to the sofa where Mickey still slept. Would he really sleep all day? How long had he already slept for?”

“Ian,” Catia grabbed his attention as she opened the door.

“Yeah?”

“Take care of yourself, okay?” She kindly smiled, a slight sadness in her eyes. Ian just nodded, unsure what to think.

“I will.”

They said their goodbye’s and Ian stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking around the apartment and taking in the life Mickey was living all these years later, while Ian—well, he could be doing better.

After taking a shower and brushing his teeth, Ian did feel a lot better. He still couldn’t remember much from last night, but he knows he couldn’t and wouldn’t have done this to himself. Surely, he would remember if he did.

Once dressed, he made his way into the kitchen and made himself at home, quietly putting on some coffee while he rummaged around for some mugs. He eventually found some and poured himself and Mickey a cup.

It was getting closer to four, and Ian wanted to make sure Mickey woke up, just in case he didn’t set an alarm, or accidentally slept through it.

Ian took a seat in the armchair by the sofa, placing his coffee on the side table before carefully placing a hand on Mickey’s shoulder, rocking him gently.

Mickey awoke with a jolt, frightening Ian.

“You okay?”

Mickey took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat up with a groan.

“m’fine,” he grumped. Ian just held out his coffee, and without question, Mickey accepted the cup.

“You look clean,” Mickey small-talked, nodding to the obviously freshly showered redhead in his living room.

“Yeah, Catia told me to.”

“Oh, she still here?”

“Nah. Left not long ago to see her mom.”

“Ah,” Mickey understood, sipping the hot caffeinated beverage, his muscles relaxing.

“Thank you, by the way. For last night.”

Mickey slowly pulled the steaming drink away from his lips, looking at Ian as his mind searched for answers. “What even happened?”

“I don’t know,” Ian’s voice shook slightly, his hands rubbing together before grabbing his own drink from the side table. “Last I remember I was dancing, and some guy wanted something from me—”

“You need to report it, Ian.”

“Why?” Ian huffed, his fear beginning to show. “I don’t remember what he looked like, what happened. There’s no point. As long as I don’t lose my job, I’ll be fine.”

Mickey gave a stern look, ready to get serious as he sat up properly. He placed his drink on the coffee table before leaning towards Ian, elbows on his knees as he worried his hands together.

“Look, we’re friends, right?”

Ian shifted his eyes, clearly nervous. “Of course, why?”

“I need you to cut the shit and be honest with me.”

Ian scoffed, taken aback, “the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“I heard you, the other week week. In the bathroom. Then I saw you walk into that crack house when I dropped you off. I’m not gonna fuckin’ lie to you, man, last night scared the absolute shit out of me. I’m worried about you, and the fact you’re turning tricks—which isn’t allowed and is also risky as hell—”

“Mick, stop,” Ian spoke with defeat, staring into his mug. “I know, okay? I know I shouldn’t have but—” he exhaled, “life’s fucking hard, man. I needed the money.”

“For what?” Mickey seemed to plead. “What happened in the army, Ian? What happened to your family?”

Ian placed his cup on the coffee table, rubbing at his face as he slouched in the chair. “They don’t know.”

Mickey squinted, searching for more. “Don’t know what?”

“Okay,” Ian prepared himself, sitting up again and leaning forward, mirroring Mickey. “I was doing really well after graduation. I got into the army and was doing _really_ fucking good. My siblings were proud of me, and I felt like I was doing something that had meaning, you know? A-And then one day—well I guess gradually—I stopped sleeping. I wasn’t tired. My mind was racing with a thousand ideas and ways that I could improve the system. I was out of control, it felt like I was overdosing on ecstasy and I fuckin’ hijacked a helicopter because I thought I was protecting the base from a threat that didn’t even exist.”

“Wh—”

“I got into trouble, obviously, and they considered pressing charges but then I just hit rock bottom. I had days where I slept so much, I couldn’t get up to eat or even piss. It was painful, I-I hated myself and felt so _ashamed_ of the shit I had done. That’s when they brought in a psychiatrist and sure enough, I was diagnosed with bipolar.”

“Shit,” Mickey gasped. He couldn’t lie, he never really knew too much about the disorder, and what he did know was due to stories Ian used to tell him about Monica. “What happened then?”

“Well, I was declared unfit to serve and I crumbled. I didn’t want to tell my family because I didn’t want them to treat me the same way they treat my mom, a-and since she’s the only one that really understands what it’s like, I called her to pick me up and have been staying with her ever since.”

“Ian,” Mickey croaked, overwhelmed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m medicated. Unlike my mom I really don’t like being crazy. Like sure, the highs are fun for a little bit, but once they’re out of control, and the depression,” he shook his head at the memory. “Hate it.”

Mickey looked down to Ian’s hands that entwined together, holding on so tight his knuckles were turning white. Mickey hesitated at first but allowed his hand to take a hold of his friends, knowing that a simple action could show more than his words ever could.

Ian squeezed back gently, sniffing. “Mom takes my money a lot, which is why I _‘turn tricks’._ I also have to pay for both of us to live in that shithole or we’ll get kicked out by the squatter that’s been there for so long it’s basically their house now. I don’t make much, and Monica is so unpredictable that I don’t know when I can and can’t trust her.”

“I get it,” Mickey squeezed once more before letting go of his hand. “My dad was unpredictable, too, but that’s just because he’s a fucking asshole.”

Ian met Mickey’s eyes and they both cracked a smile, giggling to themselves as Mickey’s phone started blaring a generic iPhone ringtone.

“Shit,” Mickey reached for his phone, turning his alarm off. “Is that really the time?”

“When did you fall asleep?” Ian wondered, sipping some coffee.

“I don’t know,” Mickey huffed, getting off the couch with his drink. “I was scared you’d choke on your vomit or some shit, so I just didn’t sleep until obviously, my body betrayed me.”

“I’m sorry, I’m a mess.” Ian huffed a laugh.

“You’re not,” Mickey put simply before changing the subject. “Have you eaten? How about we go get some quick lunch when I’m ready so we can eat before you get home.”

“Yeah. Sounds good,” Ian gave a nod, suddenly going quiet.

Mickey tried to ignore it at first, but once he turned the corner to go to his room, he knew Ian didn’t want to go home. Hell, if Mickey was in Ian’s position, he wouldn’t want to go home either.

So, he swung back around, hoping to lift Ian’s spirits as he said, “Hey, you wanna see some drag queens?”


	4. Chapter 4

The Closet was a far more relaxed work environment compared to what Mickey was used to. It was a small gay bar on the main strip of Boystown that had events like karaoke, and trivia, almost always hosted by drag queens of course, which really brought the queer community of Chicago together.

Whenever Mickey worked here, he felt like he was hardly working. The staff and patrons were so friendly that Mickey never had much to deal with, treating the shift as if it were just a good night out, which is why he thought bringing Ian here would be a good idea, with hopes it’ll help cheer him up and keep him connected in a safe space.

Because unlike the Fairytail and other nightclubs similar to it, The Closet was a safe place where anybody LGBT+ could come and be within their community without judgement. There was no need to feel sexy or put on your best outfit. The bar was as casual as casual could be, and Mickey believed Ian deserved a night off from the life he had.

When they both quickly finished their cigarettes, they flicked them to the ground and stomping on them as they made their way inside right on 4pm. The venue was smaller than Ian had anticipated, the bar taking up most of the room. There was an almost industrial feel, and if it weren’t for the rainbow flags and twinkly lights, it would look dark and drab, like many of the bars Ian were used to back in the southside.

“Mickey!” The pink-haired bartender with bold fashion sense cheered, Mickey’s face lighting up as he walked over, Ian right behind him.

“Hey, Tash. How you been?”

“Good, oh my god, let me hug you,” she spoke excitedly, running around the bar so she could go and squeeze Mickey. “It’s been so long!”

“I know,” Mickey laughed, swaying her side to side. “I’ve been here though, where the fuck have you been?”

“Oh babe,” she pulled away, “you have no idea—Oh, who’s this?” she wondered with a kind smile on her face.

Mickey turned to Ian who stood awkwardly, clearly feeling out of place, but Mickey ignored that, knowing the sooner he’s aquatinted, the better. “Uh, this is Ian, he’s been a friend of mine since high school.”

“Adorable! Nice to meet you, I’m Natasha.”

“You too!” Ian shook her hand and let her greet him with a kiss on the cheek. Mickey nearly laughed at the shocked expression on his face, knowing it’s not every day he gets an affectionate greeting like that.

“Are you hanging around tonight? It’s gonna be fun!”

“Yeah, Mickey suggested I come and see some drag, so obviously—”

“Can’t turn that down!”

“Exactly!” Ian chuckled, now slightly eased by the warm welcome he’s received, which pleased Mickey. He knew this place and being around people like Tash would help him feel better.

“Alright,” Mickey interrupted, “well I better clock in. Ian, did you wanna come with me or sit here and have a drink?”

“Uh, I’ll come,” Ian quickly decided, giving Tash a quick smile so she knew it was nothing personal before following Mickey through to the staff room that doubled as a dressing room for the queens.

Mickey gave Ian a brief tour along the way, basically just showing where the bathrooms are before opening the door to the staff room without a knock, heading straight to the time clock so he could punch-in, and at that exact moment both men got a fright when the backdoor opened and two half-ready drag queens came in from a cigarette break.

“Hey, Mick,” one of the queens greeted while the other walked straight back to her dressing table.

Mickey turned to Leon, otherwise known as _Zan Axe_. She had a silk robe wrapped around her, and her deep tanned skin glowed from one of multiple highlight applications—her eyebrows were completely glued down and covered up, making her look like an alien as she hadn’t drawn on her new brows yet, and had nothing but a wig cap on her head.

“Hey,” Mickey replied simply, “How you been?”

“Pretty fuckin’ good,” She grinned before looking to Ian. “Hi, I’m Leon—Zan Axe once the eyebrows are on.”

Ian let out a giggle at that. “Nice. I’m Ian. Just Ian.”

Leon grinned, leaning in to kiss his cheek as she said, “It’s so nice to meet you, are you working here?”

“No, I uh, I’m with Mickey.”

“Oh,” she raised her concealed brow, giving Mickey a suggestive look, making Mickey roll his eyes.

“We’ve been friends since high school, thought I’d give him a good night out.”

“Oh! Well it will be a good night!” She confirmed, making her way over to her suitcase to retrieve her outfit. “We’re doing _ABBA_ numbers tonight.”

“Fun,” Mickey said with little enthusiasm, slowly heading towards the door so he could escape.

“Are you local?” she asked Ian, making Mickey stop in his place.

“Recently, yeah.”

“Ah,” she nodded, pulling out a lavender latex jumpsuit that had a heart cutout on the chest “I was gonna say, I haven’t seen you around before. Are you gay?”

“Oh my god, Zan,” the other queen called out from her dressing table, mocking Gretchen Wieners from _Mean Girls._ “You can’t just ask people if they’re gay.”

“Shut the fuck up!” She shouted with a laugh, throwing her deodorant in her friend’s direction before looking back to Ian, “but are you?”

Ian bit back his laugh as he nodded, “Yeah, I am.”

“Then girl, where the fuck have you been?” She jokingly sassed, her hands placed on her padded, curvy hips.

“There’s not much to say,” he shrugged. “Guess I’m just more of a nightclub kind of guy.”

Zan Axe looked like she was ready to scream, not believing what Ian just said. “What?”

“I-I’ve only been to nightclubs,” Ian confessed, Mickey and Zan giving a look of disbelief. Mickey was sure Ian was one of the gayest gays he knew, but he hadn’t even been to a bar.

“Dude,” Mickey muttered, “have you even seen a fuckin’ drag queen?”

“N—”

“Oh my god,” Mickey tried not to laugh, looking at the exaggerated expression on Zan’s face.

“Sounds like we better give him the best show of his life, then,” another voice spoke, and there she was; _Steph Infection._

Steph out of drag was Jeremy, a guy Mickey had become well acquittanced with on a lonely night a few months back. Jeremy was good at what he did, both in the bedroom and in drag. When he was in drag, he was almost unrecognizable. He waltzed over with poise in his complete look; a blonde wig with bangs, his fair skin mattified yet sparkling and overdrawn pink lips, as well as eyelashes so long you almost couldn’t see the eyelids.

His outfit matched Zan’s but was a pink dress instead and he was tall and slim enough that his legs resembled something of a model’s, his white go-go boots pulling the outfit together. Stephanie was here, and exuded confidence as always.

She introduced herself to Ian, and yet again he accepted another kiss on his cheek before questioning, “wait, Steph Infection?”

“Yeah, like Staph.”

Ian burst out a laugh then, looking to Mickey who gave him a bright smile, glad Ian was enjoying himself.

“That’s a good one.”

“Thank you!” She accepted the compliment, flipping her hair back while Zan started to pull on her outfit with a struggle.

“Help?” She pleaded her friend who quickly declined.

“Not with these nails,” She flashed her hand, “they took far too fuckin’ long to get on.”

Mickey quickly rolled his eyes and made his way over. “Hang on I’ll do it,” Mickey sighed, Zan thanking him profusely as he pulled the jumpsuit tight, making Zan hold her breath as he zipped it up.

“But have you really never seen a drag queen?” Steph asked Ian. “You know we do nightclub shows too, right?”

“Oh, really?” Ian replied, leaning against the wall with his hands sliding into his pockets.

“Yes, honey,” she chuckled, “what clubs you go to?”

“Um, I’ve only been to one.”

Mickey turned around then, “Don’t fuckin’ tell me the ‘tail is the only place you’ve ever gone to.”

“Yeah,” Ian replied simply. “It is.”

Steph made a gag noise while Mickey once again, stared at his friend in disbelief. 

“But we work there. Holy fuck, I can’t believe I’ve out-gayed you.”

Zan and Steph were hollering at that, Zan running to her dressing table so she could finish getting ready.

“Shut up,” Ian playfully punched Mickey’s arm, and Mickey shoved back just as playfully, smirks on both of their faces.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Steph pushed them apart by her hands. “If it gets any gayer in here we might die.”

“Funny,” Mickey huffed, biting his lip as a memory popped into his mind. “Pretty sure I’ve done gayer than push a friend in here.”

Steph gave Mickey a sly grin before looking to Ian and changing the subject. “You really should get out more often, the Fairytail is kind of a shithole, and not in a good way.”

“Hey, c’mon,” Mickey interrupted. “I told you Jason’s fixed the place up.”

“Well tell him to give us a call!” she replied, walking back to the dressing table. “You need better reputation; we can get you it.”

Mickey huffed, crossing arms, “I’ll let him know to keep you in mind.”

“I’m looking forward to my call.”

“Whatever,” Mickey scoffed, opening the door for Ian to walk out first. “Break a heel, or whatever the fuck.”

While they waited for the show to start, Mickey lead Ian to a comfortable spot at the bar to sit (aka. Somewhere close to where Mickey would be standing) and could chat to Natasha while they waited. Natasha offered Ian a free drink and wasn’t at all shy, talking about the small things in her life, like sex, her ex-girlfriend, and what her dog did on the weekend.

She started to go on a tangent to Ian and Mickey about her trip to Bali and how she had coffee that apparently came out of some animals ass, and thankfully that’s when the _Doja Cat_ music started to fade out, the house lights dimming so the disco lights could shine brighter, the intro to _ABBA’s Voulez Vous_ began to fade in, getting louder to the point where the bass pulled your heart to beat in time, and everyone began to cheer, shutting Natasha’s poo coffee story right off.

_Zan Axe_ and _Steph Infection_ made their way in from the back and started performing choreography they had rehearsed for so long it came naturally to them.

“Good evening gays, gals and non-binary pals!” Steph greeted through her microphone, everyone cheering louder before the lip synch began.

The first line came in and the queens were right on beat with their lip synching, their energy already at a ten as they made their way through the crowd, interacting with everyone and accepting tips as they headed for the front of the bar.

Once at the front, the chorus kicked in and they clapped, hands high in the air and the crowd joined, singing and clapping along, holding out more tips for the queens to accept.

Mickey couldn’t fight his smile, not just from watching the queen’s but from seeing Ian’s eyes light up at the sight before him. Ian didn’t know the words but mouthed along as best he could, moving along to the music in his chair, he seemed happy here, and that warmed Mickey’s heart.

Zan made her way over to Ian as the next verse came in, placing a hand on his cheek and giving him a wink before sliding past, causing Mickey to give her the side eye as she yelled, “Everybody now!”

The setlist continued to feature iconic tracks that kept everyone on a high, the comedic breaks between the songs making it even better. Mickey trusted that Ian was comfortable now, which caused him to actually try and do his job, making his way through the bar and keeping an eye on the people around him.

“Okay, when this next song starts playing, I better see dollar bills held up high y’all! ABBA wrote this about drag queens—” everyone laughed at Steph’s joke, “just kidding” she added, somehow making the laughter roar louder.

“But they should have,” Zan quipped.

“Oh yeah, they should have—Hit it!”

_Money, Money, Money_ began to play, and the queens started to dramatically lip synch, showing the fantasy and message in the song, making comedic gestures about men, working hard and well, _money._

Mickey quietly snuck his way back to the front, crouching so he wouldn’t get in the way of the performers as he made his way to Ian, placing a hand on his back to catch his attention.

“You enjoyin’ it?” Mickey spoke into his ear, Ian instantly nodded, a bright smile on his face.

“Yeah! I don’t know much about ABBA, but I love this.”

“Good, I’m glad!” Mickey smiled back just as bright. Ian took a sip of his beer and Mickey let out a sigh, really wishing he weren’t working. He’d much rather relax with Ian, talk shit and drink beer all night long, but he’d only ever reveal half of that sentence right now. “God, I’d fuckin’ love a beer right now.”

“Have a sip,” Ian encouraged, holding his glass out but Mickey declined, pushing the glass back down.

“Can’t, I’m on the job.”

“Boring,” Ian smirked, watching the queens pass them to collect their tips from the patrons before turning back to Mickey. “Question, where do they hide their junk?” he wondered quietly, making Mickey laugh.

“You don’t wanna fuckin’ know, trust me. Impressive though, isn’t it?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Once that song came to an end, the drag queens started to talk with the crowd, asking how they’re feeling and making small talk about how they got here. They wandered back towards the front, thanking those who were still handing out tips before excusing some of the patrons out of the way so they could hop up onto the bar, sitting elegantly with their legs crossed.

Steph accepted a glass of water from Natasha as Zan continued to speak.

“I’ve got good news, and bad news. Good news is that I already have _three_ Grindr messages saying they wanna meet after the show,” she paused and winked obnoxiously, allowing people to laugh, “And the bad news is the show is nearly over!”

“Unless you hated it, then that would be the good news,” Steph added with a chuckle.

“Right! But before we give the last few songs all we got, I’d like to take the time to thank our fabulous bar staff, Natasha and Brian!”

Everyone cheered and Mickey gave a round of applause for his colleagues that pretended to be shocked by their appreciation.

“Please tip them, they’ll give you an extra shot in your drink if you do, they’re lonely. And desperate.”

Brian playfully slapped Zan’s arm, and she just chuckled, running her fingers through her curly brunette wig and untangling it.

“Next, I have to thank our wonderful security guard who keeps us all safe and stops us when our asses go too far with the glamour, the booze and the moves, Mickey Milkovich!”

Mickey instantly felt himself flush, biting back his smile as everyone cheered, Ian whistling and clapping loudly to embarrass him further. Security weren’t usually given shout outs like this, but Mickey knew it was their way of fucking with him, he just had to accept it at this point.

“Come over here!” Steph demanded, waving him over.

Mickey hesitated, but Ian’s eager expression was almost begging him to, so he did, everyone clapping as he made his way around to her.

“Alright, calm down,” he told the crowd with a laugh. The regulars who knew and enjoyed Mickey’s company patting his shoulders as he made his way to Stephanie who instantly wrapped an arm around him.

“Hey baby, how’s your head?” she asked, moving the microphone in front of his face.

“Uh, Fine?” Mickey replied with confusion, his brows furrowed when everyone around him giggled. Was there a joke here that he didn’t get?

“I’ve spent a night with you honey, it’s more than fine.”

Everyone started to _‘ooh’_ at the scandalous comment, making Mickey’s brows shoot up now when he realized she was referring to _head,_ head.

Before Mickey had the chance to speak back, Steph spoke into the microphone.

“Now, Mickey. I’m going to ask you something. Would you like to help me with the next song?”

Mickey’s gut twisted at the thought, his head shaking. “No fucking way!”

Steph and Zan pouted at the dark-haired security guard, looking around the room.

“Anyone else?”

More than half of the people in the room put their hands up and screamed _‘me!’_ but what the queens and Mickey never expected, was for a tall, moderately quiet red head to stand on his stool, hands up high as he called out, “I will!”

Mickey stood there in shock as the queens called Ian over. The dude didn’t know any ABBA songs, how the fuck was he supposed to help them?

They pulled Ian to squeeze between them and Mickey, and Mickey quickly moved back to his spot in the corner of the room—he had had more than enough attention tonight.

“What’s your name?” Zan asked, as if they hadn’t spoken in the staff room earlier.

“Ian.”

“Okay Ian, do you like ABBA?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Ian laughed, and Mickey feared this would end in disaster.

“Well do you know this song?” Steph asked before whispering the title in his ear. Mickey watched as a grin came to Ian’s face.

“Oh, hell yeah, I do.”

“Then Tash, hit it! Follow me.”

_Gimme, Gimme, Gimme (A Man After Midnight)_ started to blare through the speakers, Ian guided by the queens to the front of the bar.

“We need to get these guys moving, you think you can do that!?”

Mickey smirked, knowing that that’s what Ian does best, and Ian began to glow with the confidence Mickey knew well, all his doubts flying out the window.

“I mean, I can try!” Ian replied, talking down his own skills.

“Then let’s go!”

The beat kicked in and the three of them swayed in time to the music, Ian watching them carefully as he tried to match his steps with them.

_‘Half past twelve!’_ sang through the speakers, the crowd singing along as the queen’s lip synced, the both of them moving in circles around Ian, doing different moves and cheering Ian on as he continued to sway.

Mickey crossed his arms, tapping his foot as he watched Ian dance through the place. The line _‘As I look around the_ room’ rang through, and Ian held his hands out to patrons that were dancing in their seats, pulling them out of their chairs no matter the resistance, making them come dance with him.

When the chorus kicked in, Ian had successfully gotten at least half the bar on their feet and moving, couples linking up to sing to each other. Mickey admired the prideful sight from afar, knowing there’s no way he could’ve hyped up the crowd like this. Steph really tried to fuck with him tonight, but luckily Ian saved the day.

Everyone clapped in time with the chorus, screaming the lyrics so loudly their lungs would likely burst.

“Don’t stop moving!” Ian instructed as the next verse came in, and he easily moved through the crowd, getting more and more people off their seats to join him.

Mickey was absolutely fine from where he was standing. He didn’t dance, and he knew Ian knew that, but Ian seemed to move his way towards Mickey anyway, singing along and pointing to his eyes and then to Mickey as if to say, _‘you’re next’._

Mickey shook his head, unable to fight the dumbass grin off his face. Ian was really gonna make him do this, huh?

“There’s not a soul out there,” Ian sung, holding his hands out to Mickey now, but Mickey didn’t budge, not until Ian practically tore his arms apart, grabbing his hands as he dragged him onto the dancefloor singing, “no one to hear my prayers!”

“Okay, okay,” Mickey chuckled, running into the middle of the crowd with him, bopping and stepping with Ian in time to the next chorus.

Ian held onto Mickey’s hands, pushing and pulling him to do more moves than just left-step, right-step. Once Mickey got into the rhythm of that, Ian carefully placed his hands upon Mickey’s hips, making them sway. Mickey bit his lip, feeling an unwanted flutter in his stomach as he looked down at Ian’s hands on his hips that began to slide to his waist.

Mickey wasn’t sure what it was, but Ian was fucking magical when he danced, and somehow, they were stepping closer and closer, Mickey placing his hands upon his friends’ shoulders, one mindlessly sliding to the nape of his neck to keep him close.

Their foreheads were pressed together now, both looking down at their feet to make sure they moved together without stepping on each other.

“Now you’ve got it,” Ian praised, his arm wrapping completely around his friend’s waist as they moved to the music, practically grinding on the dancefloor.

Mickey couldn’t lie, he loved it. He never really danced, and what harm could come from some platonic grinding? Mickey felt safe and comfortable like this, he was carefree, he didn't give a fuck for anyone else around him.

They seemed to move against each other like this for longer than either would be willing to admit, but once the song came to an end, they were pulled out of their trance and pulled away from one another, cheering not only for each other, but for the drag queens who were putting on one hell of a show.

When the night came to an end, Mickey and Ian were exhausted and hungry, both picking up some Chinese take away from a place across the road before heading straight towards the car.

The night was cold, and the energy between Ian and Mickey had shifted, the air between them absolutely silent. Maybe the night had just gotten to them, and Mickey couldn’t lie, he felt a bit light-headed, as if he were floating, and he just couldn’t grasp _why_.

“Thanks for tonight, by the way,” Ian spoke first, his arms wrapped around the plastic bag filled with warm take away containers to fight the near-freezing temperature.

“Don’t mention it,” Mickey shrugged it off. “You’re welcome to come fuckin’ whenever man. Even if I’m not there.”

Ian’s brows knitted together with confusion, looking to Mickey. “What do you mean?”

“Gallagher, you hadn’t even been to a drag show,” Mickey brought up, looking back at Ian now. “You should see more of this,” Mickey gestured to the street they were on that had pride flags flying high and had crosswalks that were made up of gay and trans flag colors. “I spent years not knowing who the fuck I truly was, this place helped me.”

Ian smiled slightly, but didn’t say anything else, and Mickey just hoped Ian was taking in what he was trying to say.

When they got to the car, they put their dinner in the backseat and got in the front, both sharing a lighter as they lit up their cigarettes before Mickey started the engine, turning on the heater.

Mickey felt a buzz in his pocket as he deeply inhaled his long-awaited cancer stick. He pulled his phone out and almost dropped the smoke from his lips.

**_Byron_ ** _: ‘Hey Mickey! It’s Byron from the club, just wondering if you wanted to be my plus one to Jason’s New Years party? I know we’re both single so I thought it’d be a good idea so we don’t feel alone when the clock strikes midnight lol. Anyway, just let me know :)’_

Before Mickey could even embrace the idea of going out with the awkward DJ that played at the Fairytail a few times a month, Ian’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Hey, was what Steph said true?”

“Huh?” Mickey couldn’t comprehend what he meant, locking his phone and flicking ash out the window.

“Steph said you were more than fine at head, and you said you had done gay things backstage.”

“Oh,” Mickey huffed. “Yeah, his name is Jeremy out of drag—we’ve fucked a couple of times,” he shrugged, “no big deal.”

“Jesus,” Ian laughed quietly, taking that in before asking, “I gotta know, did you do it in drag?”

Mickey smirked at his friend, “Of course.”

Ian gasped, placing his smoke between his lips as he muttered, “how was it?”

“Weirdly hot,” Mickey laughed, feeling his cheeks warm up from the memory. “I mean, the clothes were hard to get off, plus all that fuckin’ foam padding, but the red lipstick was a nice touch.”

“Red lipstick, huh?”

Mickey noticed the flirtatious tone in Ian’s voice and raised a brow, inhaling his own cigarette. “You like the image?”

“Sounds kinda straight, but I’m into it.”

Mickey let out a loud laugh then, nearly choking on the smoke in his lungs. “Alright dickhead, time to get you home.”

The drive to Ian’s was quicker than they had hoped. They had a great night together despite the disaster that was last night's shift. They spoke a lot along the way, about how _Gimme, Gimme, Gimme_ is one of the only ABBA songs Ian knows, so he got lucky, and how Mickey doesn’t actually have two left feet after all, both of them agreeing that Ian is some sort of dancing queen wizard.

Mickey pulled up in front of the house that was _actually_ Ian’s house this time, a dim torchlight noticeable in the front window that was moving.

Ian let out a sigh and Mickey could feel his need to stay in this car and beg Mickey to drive far, far away. But Ian was stronger than he knew, and Mickey’s door would always be open for him to crash whenever he needs to.

“Thanks again,” Ian smiled sadly. “Not just for tonight, but last night, and probably every night in the future that I’m a fuckin’ mess,” he laughed, but Mickey didn’t think it was funny.

“You’re not a mess—”

A knock came at the passenger-side window and they both jumped at the sound, looking to see a smiling Monica Gallagher who was pointing a torch at her own face, waving at the both of them.

“Mom,” Ian muttered, rolling down the window. “What are you doing? It’s freezing out.”

“I know, just thought I’d walk you inside—Hi Mickey!”

Mickey gave a tight-lipped smile, waving back. “How you doin’?”

“Yeah, been better,” she admitted with a light laugh, tucking her box-dye blonde hair behind her ear as she looked back to Ian. “I was worried about you. You should’ve texted. I mean, I figured you’d be at a friend’s place but it’s a scary world out there—”

“I know, I know,” Ian responded as if he had heard the spiel a thousand times before, leaning into the back of the car to retrieve his bag of take away. “I got us dinner.”

“Oh yay!” Monica beamed, clapping her hands with excitement. “Did you get those jalapeño poppers I love?”

“No mom, it’s Chinese,” he informed her, passing the bag to her through the window.

“Ooh!” Monica said, intrigued as she peaked inside the bag. “Sweet and sour pork! Yum!”

Ian looked back at Mickey with an exasperated look, Mickey reading _‘see what I have to put up with?’_ all over his face.

“See you, Mick.” Ian opened the door and got out before Mickey could reply, just watching as he pulled his backpack over his shoulder and grabbed the bag from his mother so she could guide them back inside with the torch.

“Bye Mickey!” Monica called out, waving over her own shoulder. Mickey couldn’t help but chuckle, calling out a goodbye in return before closing the windows in his car to keep the warmth in, driving off so he could quickly get home and enjoy his own feast.

Mickey still wasn’t 100% sure what tonight was, or how they ended up like _that,_ but he knew he’d have to keep it to himself. If he told anyone about this, especially Catia, he’d be accused of having a crush.

Honestly, he felt kind of sick at the thought of being with Ian romantically, his stomach whirring like a hurricane. He couldn’t see it. Just because they’re both gay, doesn’t mean they had to be together. They just click well, like any best friends would.

And that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry it's a bit late, I've just started back at college and have had course work to do so I've been working on that. I'm suffering trying to find routine while in isolation hahaha 
> 
> But anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Things are slowly starting to build now, and I'm excited for you guys to see what's to come! As always, let me know what you thought and I'll see you in the next one, that hopefully will be up on time xx


	5. Chapter 5

Christmas. The shittiest time of year for those who don’t have anyone to celebrate with, or don’t have those they used to celebrate with in their lives anymore. Mickey was one of those people, and while he had become numb to the loneliness of not having his dad around, and the death of his mother, it still caused him to grieve his past.

He tried to ignore it most days, but when he flips through TV channels mindlessly and all there is to watch is Christmas movies, his mind completely caves in, past memories flooding in, completely unwanted.

Mickey seemed to defeat them by reminding himself of the shitty Christmases he did spend with ‘ _family._ ’ Such as the time his mom had the cash to actually afford presents for Mickey and his siblings, but his dad ruined it by opening all their gifts, taking what he wanted and pawning the rest before coming home to give each of them a beat down. Even his mom.

He tried not to ache for his mother. She tried to get away from his father, but tragically died in the process. Mickey can still remember the way his gut churned when the cops showed up at his door. He knew just by their facial expressions what it meant. It was such a vivid memory, and it was one that told Mickey that if he were to get away from his prick of a dad, he’d need to be strategic, quick and vigilant. Thankfully he didn’t have to do it alone, Catia being the one to help the plan follow through.

Speaking of, Catia had been in Hawaii for a couple of days now, which was also causing Mickey to lose his mind. He didn’t have a distraction to laugh with and forget about his shitty life. He did have Ian, but texts between them had been moving slowly back and forth all day. It wasn’t enough.

Mickey wished the Fairytail were open today, even though he worked a double last night. He just needed to get out of his head, and the club, whether he was working or not, was good at helping him do that.

Mickey just couldn’t stop thinking, and since the night Ian was evidently roofied and opened up to Mickey about the truth of his life, he couldn’t help but feel for his best friend.

He had spent the past week trying to spend more time with him, make sure he’s fed and offer him a place to stay when he needs. He’s also done a lot of research on bipolar disorder as he really didn’t know much before, since the only bipolar person he knew was Monica, and while he never saw her do anything _too_ crazy, Ian had told Mickey enough stories to make him understand that it was some serious shit.

Researching, Mickey grasped it more, understanding specifics such as medications and how they are a hell of a lot of work to adjust to, and that they also come with side effects that would make anyone want to die. He managed to empathize with Ian, and while he didn’t want to coddle his friend, he wanted to make sure he was educated enough to notice when signs of mania or depression flare up.

And he did worry, especially since he lives with Monica, but Mickey decided to trust Ian. He knew he could trust him, and if Ian said he was okay then he was okay. Mickey had to leave it at that.

Reaching for his phone, Mickey laid across his couch and started typing a text to the friend he was thinking of, who must be having a bit of a rough day as well.

 **Mickey:** _‘How’s your day been?’_

Ian replied quickly, despite having ignored Mickey’s previous text.

**Ian: _‘_** _Sorry phone died when I went to reply but then I made some lunch so I forgot lol but it’s been okay. Mom’s nowhere to be seen, but that’s not unusual.’_

Mickey frowned.

**Mickey:** _‘So you’re spending Christmas alone?’_

**Ian:** _‘I mean Tab’s here but she’s doing her post-meth 72hr nap.’_

**Mickey:** _‘Jesus fucking Christ.’_

_‘Come over.’_

**Ian:** _‘What, right now? Are you not with anyone?’_

**Mickey:** _‘No, Catia’s in Hawaii and got no family so I’m bored shitless. We can chill and just pretend this shitty holiday doesn’t even exist.’_

Ian seemed to take his time to reply, making Mickey chew his lip nervously, until his phone finally vibrated with a reply.

 **Ian:** _‘That sounds like an amazing plan haha! Be there in 20 x’_

Mickey smiled to himself, going to reply before noticing the absolute dump his place had become since Catia’s been away, causing him to jolt up off the couch and gather up the plates and dirty ashtrays he rarely ever cleaned out as he headed for the sink.

20 minutes moves fast, but thankfully Mickey cleans faster, tidying up all his sprawled-out video games and weights that were a potential tripping hazard. By the time he was done, it looked almost as good as how Catia had left it. He was sure she would be proud of it, so much so that he took pictures to send to her and prove that he’s taking good care of their home.

That’s when a knock came at the door and Mickey was quick to attend to it, pulling it open to find the tall, orange-haired Gallagher, rubbing his hands together through his woollen gloves.

“Hey, man,” Mickey greeted, and Ian smiled brightly as he wrapped an arm around his friend, saying a quick hello back. It had been so cold outside that Ian’s coat felt like it had been in a freezer, instinctively making Mickey squeeze Ian before pulling away. “Need a beer?”

“Yes, please,” Ian chuckled, making his way inside and taking off his outerwear with a happy sigh. “It’s so warm in here.”

“Thank fuck for central heating huh?” Mickey chuckled, a grin on his face as he pulled two beers out of the fridge, shutting the door with his foot as he headed to the couch where Ian was already making himself comfortable.

He looked nice, and the thought of Ian possibly being attractive caught Mickey off guard. If anything, Mickey felt underdressed, he hadn’t showered and was in sweats and a tank top, while here Ian sat in jeans, a shirt and flannel button-up.

“Here,” Mickey passed over the beverage, taking a seat next to him as he cracked his own beer open.

Ian glugged down a mouthful before pointing to the TV. “Nice show you been watching.”

Mickey looked to the blank TV screen and shook his head at the stupid joke, but had to laugh, joking along. “Yeah, I’m up to the 5th season. It’s just started getting interesting.”

“Great, I’d love to watch it from the start.”

“Luckily we have all night.”

Ian smirked behind the lip of his bottle before taking another gulp. “Seriously though, what’d you wanna do?”

“Well, I’ve been feeling extra shitty,” Mickey admitted, taking a quick sip and putting his drink down so he could make his way over to the TV to grab the DVD. “When I feel shitty, I usually put on my favorite movie,” he continued, turning around to flash _Under Siege_ to the redhead who instantly let out a groan.

“Oh my god no, not again!”

“Again? Bitch—”

“Do you not remember that night at your place like, 5 years ago when we had it on repeat for 6 hours because we kept getting distracted.”

“No, _you_ kept getting distracted with your ramblings of how much hotter Van Damme is, and I couldn’t give a fuck! I said it once and I’ll say it a-fucking-gain, Seagal would kick his ass!”

“Fine! But I didn’t come all this way to watch a shitty movie, so we better watch _Double Impact_ next.”

“Okay, you got a deal. I’ll see if I’ve got some popcorn, you put it on,” Mickey announced, throwing the DVD at Ian before making his way to the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets to find some snacks. There’s sure to be some, Catia can’t survive without them.

An hour and half and a bowl of popcorn later, Ian had done a really good job of _actually_ watching the movie, letting Mickey munch on some chips and enjoy his favorite movie in the darkness of his living room.

As expected, the movie did help Mickey feel a bit better, as well as having a friend here with him. He would never admit it aloud, but he really isn’t good at being alone. His own thoughts would drive him insane if he had more than a day to himself.

Ian moved from his slouched position on the couch, grabbing his beer and picking at the label as he watched the screen, Mickey watching Ian from the corner of his eye as he seemed to hesitate, lifting the beverage to his lips and downing some before placing it back on the coffee table. “So,” Ian started, “I had an idea—”

“Shh!” Mickey told him with a finger to his lips. “You were doin’ so well!”

“Just pause it,” Ian reasoned, as if it wasn’t heading towards one of the biggest scenes in the film. “I wanna mention this before I forget.”

“Fine,” Mickey muttered, grabbing the remote to pause the DVD before throwing it down, looking to Ian. “What?”

“You know how Jason’s New Year’s thing is coming up?”

Mickey’s heart sunk. “Yeah?”

“Well Dean and I were talkin’ about starting some sort of singles-only group so we could all stick together and not feel so lonely when the clock hits midnight. I-I guess I’m just wondering if you’d be interested? It’s called _‘All the Single fairy’s’_ ,” he couldn’t help but cringe. “Before you say it—I know it’s fucking stupid. The name was Dean’s idea.”

Mickey tried to stop staring mindlessly, replying, “Yeah, it’s really fucking stupid.”

“Dickhead,” Ian punched his friend playfully, the two of them giggling like schoolgirls. “Seriously though, what do you think?”

Ian put Mickey on the spot, and he bit down on his lip hard, not wanting to speak the truth and disappoint him, but he couldn’t lie. That wasn’t who Mickey was.

“Man, I wish I could,” Mickey sighed, scratching his temple. “But I uh, kind of have a date.”

“A date!?” Ian scoffed. “Who?”

Mickey looked down shamefully. “Byron.”

“Byron!?” Ian nearly shouted, clearly shocked and confused. “That glittery twink that thinks he’s a DJ and comes in on Tuesdays to play shitty pop music for three hours? That guy!?”

“I know, I know!” Mickey raised his hands, knowing it was ridiculous. “He texted me after _The Closet_ , I didn’t know what to do.”

“Uh, I have an idea. Say no!”

Mickey was taken aback by his sass, eyebrows furrowed. “The fuck do you care anyway?”

“I don’t!” Ian tried to convince, more likely himself than Mickey.

“Then stop talkin’ about it!” Mickey jumped off the couch, going to grab his hoodie from the kitchen counter. “Sorry I can’t join your shitty singles group, but at least I have a _glittery twink_ to kiss at midnight. Get the fuck over it. Now, did you want me to get you another beer while I’m up?”

“Fine,” Ian grumbled before lifting his beer and shaking it to feel how much was left. “And yeah, please.”

Mickey pulled his hoodie over his head and rolled his eyes, just thankful for the fact he’s dropping the subject as he got another two beers from the fridge. As he made his way back, Ian gladly took the drink from him and they both were silent as Mickey got comfortable on the couch again, reaching for the remote so he could continue the movie.

“I’ll find a date,” Ian announced just as Mickey hit play, causing his brows to shoot up and hit the pause button.

“The fuck are you talking about?” he sighed exasperatedly. Just wanting this to be over with.

“A date for New Years, I’ll get one,” Ian shrugged as if it were easy. “I mean you got _Byron_ for fucks sake. How hard can it be?”

Now Mickey was just confused. “What about your _‘Single Fairy’s’_ group?”

“We haven’t gone far with it, I’ll just tell Dean not to bother,” he stated simply, downing the last bits of his beer before opening the next one, slouching back down as Mickey just stared at him completely perplexed. What the fuck is going on right now? “C’mon, press play.”

Mickey shook his head, trying not to focus on this stupid argument (if you could even call it that) for any longer. He pressed play and the both of them stayed silent, a tension between them that was so apparent that the only way they would’ve broken it was with their fists if they were still kids, but they’re not. They’re adults. Adults who would rather bottle up all their emotions than talk about it.

What’s there to talk about anyway?

When the movie finally came to an end, the tension seemed to diminish only slightly, but they were able to move forward. Mickey congratulated Ian for getting through it and Ian said it wasn’t as bad as he thought it was. They were slowly returning to normal, and just as Mickey got up to put on _Double Impact_ , Ian’s phone started ringing violently on the coffee table.

“Hello?” Ian answered, and Mickey eavesdropped as he set up the DVD.

“At Mickey’s, why? —Where are you? —No, we’re about to watch a movie,” he sighed. “Mickey?”

Mickey turned around, pretending like he hadn’t been paying attention. “Huh?”

Ian muted whoever he was on the phone to. “It’s my mom, she wants to come over. She’s upset I’m not home to be with her.”

“Oh,” Mickey simply replied, unsure what to say. “I mean why the fuck not? Just no drugs. Or friends! It’s not a fuckin’ party, right?”

“Right, thanks, Mick.” Ian smiled kindly before unmuting and telling his mom the answer, far nicer than what Mickey actually said.

Mickey couldn’t find it in him to focus on the movie. Sure, Van Damme was sexy as hell, but he was trying hard not to stress over Monica not doing as Mickey asked, as well as whatever’s bothering Ian about him seeing Byron. It’s not like Mickey’s actually attracted to the guy, it’s just a warm mouth to fill the void for now, what’s so bad about that?

“Dude, Dude, this is the part!” Ian slapped Mickey’s thigh excitedly, bringing his attention back to the fight scene currently on the screen where Van Damme was karate-kicking the villain of the film into an open fuse box, exposed wires electrocuting him to the point of death.

Mickey had seen it before, but the moment still had him staring in awe as the electricity sparked with gasoline and started a fire, Van Damme running in slow-motion and escaping just in time as the factory exploded. He wasn’t going to lie, it was an awesome movie, but he’d never tell Ian that.

“Fuckin’ classic,” Ian clapped, amazed. “What I tell you?”

“Yeah, Yeah,” Mickey nudged him with a laugh. “Shut up and let me finish it.”

Ian sniggered, trying to keep quiet for the last portion of the movie. Mickey stayed interested after that moment, enjoying the rest of the film while munching on the rest of his chips.

Just as the credits began to roll, a knock came at the door right on time and Mickey quickly turned the lamp on, both him and Ian getting up to greet Monica.

Mickey pulled open the door and was relieved to find the kind-eyed blonde alone with her arms holding onto a foil tray and a plastic bag as she beamed, “Merry Christmas!”

“Hey!” Mickey chuckled. “Merry Christmas. Here let me—” he held his hands out for the tray and she gladly passed it over, taking the chance to run and wrap her arms around her son who she had apparently missed a lot, judging by how tight she squeezed him and how hard she kissed his cheek.

Mickey placed the warm, heavy tray on the kitchen counter and the moment he turned, Monica’s arms were wrapped tight around him, completely throwing Mickey off. He wrapped his arms around her anyway, noticing she was almost just as cold as Ian had been when he got here, as well as the light, cheap scent of flowers in her hair.

“I still can’t believe you’re so grown!” she exclaimed as she pulled away, squeezing his biceps, “It seems like yesterday I was carpooling you to school.”

“That happened?” Mickey raised a brow, looking to Ian who shrugged.

“Yes of course! Maybe only once or twice, but still—Oh!” she paused pulling the plastic bag off her arm and pulling out a rectangular present, passing it to Mickey. “Here you go!”

Mickey hesitantly took it, watching as she then took out a square sized present and passed it to Ian. Mickey felt the present, a wobbly plastic feeling beneath his fingertips as he contemplated opening it. 

“Open them,” she insisted, Mickey stepping aside as she moved to open the foil tray that revealed a Christmas feast.

“Mom, where’d you get all this stuff?” Ian asked, stopping Mickey from peeling away the red and green wrapping paper.

Monica just shrugged, helping herself to Mickey’s cabinets to find plates. “The homeless shelter.”

Mickey’s brows shot up. “Wait, hold up—you stole these?”

“You can’t just steal from a homeless shelter!”

Monica pulled out the plates and turned to her son with a carefree smile. “Baby, I think you’re forgetting that I _am_ homeless. Far as I’m concerned, I’m allowed to take them.”

Mickey watched as Ian stared down at his gift, a similar look of contemplation on his face as Monica pulled out a spoon, piling food onto the plates. “Mick, how many potatoes would you like?”

“Uh, two please,” Mickey replied, keeping his eyes on Ian who seemed to be overwhelmed now. He could just tell something had gotten to him.

“Guys, it’s Christmas!” Monica cheered, shaking both boys out of their solemn states. “C’mon, open the presents—Do you have YouTube? I’ll play some music!”

“Yeah, remotes on the couch,” Mickey nodded, walking over to Ian as Monica distracted herself with the TV, playing ‘ _Jingle Bell Rock’_. “Man, you okay?”

“Yeah, shit’s just rough.”

“I got ‘ya,” Mickey gave an empathetic smile before holding up the gift. “Cheers?”

That brought a stupid grin to Ian’s face, hitting Mickey’s present with his own as he replied, “Cheers.”

Mickey ripped the wrapping off quickly, a laugh erupting from his chest at the bright pink packaging and smiling blonde doll that was dressed in a black and white polka dot dress. “Barbie! Just what I wanted. Thanks, Monica!”

“Oh yay!” Monica clapped, excitedly making her way over to have a look before looking over to Ian who was peeling the paper away to reveal a first aid kit for your car.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” he chuckled, looking to Mickey’s doll with jealousy. “Wanna swap?”

“Fuck no!” Mickey quickly held the box to his chest, not wanting to let it go.

“But you have a car,” Ian whined while Monica laughed gleefully.

“Okay boys enough, go take a seat and I’ll come bring you dinner!”

Ian continued to whine while Mickey playfully teased Ian for getting the worser present, the both of them sitting on the sofa to properly open their items. Mickey had no idea what he was supposed to do with a Barbie doll, he just liked rubbing it in Ian’s face.

As he unpacked his doll, Mickey kept an eye on Monica who was making herself right at home, pulling a beer out of his fridge and going through the drawers for whatever she needed. It should’ve bothered him, but it didn’t. He knew Monica and knows she means no harm, whereas if it were Ian’s dad, Frank, then that would be a whole other story.

“Okay it’s ready!” she announced, bringing over two plates piled up with food for the boys to enjoy. She put them down and handed them both a knife and fork so she could go back and grab her own plate.

She quickly made her return with her beer bottle and meal, pulling over Mickey’s pouffe to sit on by the coffee table, all of them completely ignoring the fact Mickey did indeed have a small dining table, but it was stuffed in a corner and covered in paperwork so it was useless. It was more of a desk than a dining table these days, and there was no reason to clear it to enjoy a meal that would disappear in ten minutes.

The food was surprisingly good, despite its origins and they all happily enjoyed it, Monica making sure the Barbie doll was sat up on the table so she could be involved too.

“Isn’t this fun?” she sighed contentedly, grabbing her drink. “This is what Christmas is all about.”

Ian and Mickey just nodded, both not knowing what to say, considering she kind of bombarded their night.

“You know, Mick,” she put her drink down, “when Ian told me he bumped into you at the Fairytail I almost couldn’t believe it!”

“Oh yeah?” Mickey huffed, grinning as he looked to his friend who was rolling his eyes.

“Yeah! And you know, I think you both should thank me for your reunion, Ian wouldn’t have gotten that job if it weren’t for me,” she seemed to boast, shoving a forkful of meat into her mouth.

“Really?” Mickey questioned, having no idea about that.

“Yeah, honey, how do you think he knows all that he knows?” she chewed. “Mother knows best.”

“Huh, apparently so.” Mickey looked to Ian who seemed embarrassed, just pushing around the food on his plate to look busy.

“When he was a kid, he had no _idea_ how magical this community is and on a bad day I took his mind off things by introducing him to some hunky rich men—What was that guy’s name again?”

“Who?” Ian responded, acting uninterested.

“That rich guy you were dating who ended up being Fiona’s boyfriend’s dad?”

“Ned?”

“Yes, that’s him!” She clapped and Mickey nearly choked.

“Wait, that creepy dude who always came in when you were working and would watch you stock cans? That guy?”

Ian side eyed Mickey, letting out a sigh. “Yeah, him—and then when Jimmy found out it became a huge deal and Carl wouldn’t stop asking questions about how sex works between two men.”

Monica stared at her son adoringly, “Aw, I miss my babies.”

Mickey was starting to see it now—just how much Monica has influenced Ian all this time, and how she’s likely responsible for him giving in and turning tricks when times got desperate. This realization nearly left him speechless, the only words being able to leave his lips being a dry, “Sounds fun.”

He couldn’t hate Monica for this. Not when that’s likely all she knows, too, but he did feel protective over Ian. If Ian were to have told him back then that he was sleeping with that geriatric, Mickey would’ve easily stomped his ass.

Maybe that’s why Ian didn’t say anything.

“So, Mickey, what’s going on with your family?”

Mickey looked to the blonde woman, not really sure if that’s something he would like to speak about right now. He’s thought about them enough for one day.

“Don’t fuckin’ know and don’t fuckin’ care,” he responded casually. “Moved the hell out of there years ago.”

“Don’t blame you, your dad’s an asshole—You know, your mom and I weren’t really friends. She didn’t like me all that much, but when we took you kids to little league, we would talk, and Mickey,” Monica reached across the coffee table to place her hand on his arm, “your mom loved you kids so much, you know that, right?”

Mickey moved his tongue across his teeth with a nod, trying not to let himself get emotional. “Yeah,” he croaked, a kind smile spreading over Monica’s face.

“She would’ve been so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Mickey looked down from her gaze to stop himself from spilling over.

“You’re welcome—just know that even though you don’t have family, you still have us,” she raised her beer, Ian and Mickey joining the cheers before going back to their meal.

Mickey tried to focus on the meal, but he didn’t have much of an appetite anymore. When he looked to Ian, he could tell his mood was continuing to go down. If Mickey could read his mind he’s sure it’d be something along the lines of _‘why can’t you be proud of me?’_ and that’s because Mickey knows what that’s like, to have a parent you try to please but they only praise the ones surrounding you, and never you.

If they were alone, Mickey would reassure him that his mom is proud of him in other ways and that his life isn’t as worthless as it seems to be sometimes.

“We should watch a movie,” Monica spoke with her mouth full.

“Fuck no,” Mickey protested. “I hate that Christmas-y shit.”

“Yeah,” Ian agreed. “Plus, we’ve already watched two movies tonight.”

“Fuck you guys, I’m putting it on anyway,” Monica reached for the remote to go to Netflix and Mickey looked to Ian with a sigh, giving him a reassuring smile that this doesn’t bother him and that he has nothing to be ashamed of. “I'm thinkin' about the Grinch since you two hate Christmas so bad.”

“I don’t hate Christmas—”

“Yeah, whatever,” Mickey interrupted Ian. “As long as it’s the old one and none of that new animated bullshit.”

“Done,” Monica nodded with a smile, finding ‘ _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ ’ while Ian and Mickey finished off their food.

During the Movie, Monica found her way onto the couch so she could cuddle up to her son as if he were still a toddler, but Ian didn’t seem to mind, resting his head on hers as they watched. Meanwhile, Mickey sat to himself, downing his beer and mindlessly playing with his new doll so he wouldn’t have to pay too much attention to the movie.

He played with Barbie’s hair and considered giving her some sort of punk makeover in the future, but for now he sat in his lonesome, braiding the hair of an inanimate object and being reminded once again of all the people he missed.

His little sister, Mandy, being one of those people. She’s the reason Mickey learned to braid hair. He had many brothers, but once his mom died, none of them were willing to do ‘girly shit’ to help Mandy present well and dress nice for school, so Mickey took the time to be there for her; braiding her hair each day and taking her to Goodwill to get some nice secondhand clothes so she wouldn’t get made fun of for wearing baggy boy hand-me-downs again.

He missed her the most. Their relationship was far from perfect, but they did care for one another somewhat. He knows she wouldn’t care that he’s gay, especially since she used to be good friends with Ian, too, once upon a time, but Mickey wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready to approach any of his family again. Who even knows what Mandy is up to these days? Mickey silently hopes that she got far, far away from the southside and is chasing her dreams, unlike their brothers who are likely selling drugs or in prison by now.

Mickey was pulled out of his thoughts by the weight shifting on the couch, Ian leaning his head on Mickey’s shoulder, causing Mickey’s body to freeze as he felt Ian's arm slide across Mickey’s waist.

“What are you doing?” Mickey whispered, his brows furrowed.

“You looked sad and lonely over here by yourself,” Ian replied, squeezing slightly. “Did you want me to stop?”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Mickey relaxed, placing his arm on top of Ian’s as he admitted, “You’re not wrong.”

Mickey rested his head to Ian’s then, and a warmth slowly spreading across his body as if this is what he truly needed right now. Ian was so comforting that Mickey was able to focus on the movie without getting sad over what he’s missing.He never noticed how nice Ian smells, too. He wasn’t sure what it was, he couldn’t put a label on the scent, but it was something so distinctly _Ian_ that it brought him immediate security, like an anxious teen under a weighted blanket.

Christmas was the shittiest time of the year, but having his best friend here like this, and Monica nearby radiating her ever-glowing sunlight of a personality, things didn’t feel so bad. Mickey almost didn’t want it to end.

But that was okay, because New Year’s is right around the corner, and Mickey can rest peacefully knowing that he won’t be alone when that clock strikes midnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a bit to get up, but I hope it was worth the wait!! See you in the next one x

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @milkothicc


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